Deliverance
by Eudoxus
Summary: Tony needs a little help finding his way. Gibbs and McGee pick up the pieces. Gibbs/McGee/DiNozzo
1. Chapter 1

AN: Takes place season 6 after Agent Afloat.

Story disclaimer: I don't own NCIS. Seriously.

Warnings, etc: Slash threesome. If that's not your bag of chips, please exit now. Mature content to come eventually, but will be posted elsewhere.

* * *

It's a Monday like any other Monday.

For all intents and purposes, nothing is particularly different as he strolls out of the elevator, coffee in hand, water still dripping into his eyes from the torrential downpour that is not out of the ordinary for September in D.C.. The fact that it's been raining for three days straight is enough to dampen anyone's mood, especially at the start of a week, but if luck holds they won't have any new cases today that will be sending them outside in the chilling start of fall air. The last thing he needs is a cold. The last thing DiNozzo needs is a cold.

The younger agent is sitting at his desk typing furiously away, concentrating on the screen in front of him, and Gibbs has to roll his eyes. He knows the only reason Tony looks like he's doing any work at all is because Gibbs just walked into the room, but he lets it slide. Tony's been… off the past few days, the past few weeks if he lets himself admit that he's been watching out for Tony's health that long, and the fact that he's up to the usual DiNozzo antics that have been for the most part on the down low as of late is reassuring.

He takes a moment to survey the rest of the pen, not surprised to find Ziva missing. He's had her wandering through archives (paper archives, no less, and he's sure he's earned himself some grumbling, snarky remarks for that one) for the past half week. No new cases means work on old cases, and the FBI has been as unhelpful as ever with ponying up possibly relevant information for cases that they couldn't solve themselves, even if said cases were absolutely NCIS jurisdiction.

McGee is slumped over at his desk, as intent on the computer before him as Tony, but Gibbs doesn't doubt that McGee is actually working. Not because computers are his life, which they are, but because he's still not sure about whether or not Gibbs is mad at him after Friday's fiasco with the spilled Mochaccino and Chinese carry out.

He's not; he was never really mad in the first place. The coffee had been lukewarm and he'd been on his way out the door anyway, but he's not about to tell McGee that and ruin this burst of unasked for productivity. Maybe someone will actually solve a case this way. And if McGee does, then Gibbs can stop pretending to be mad and pretend that McGee has earned his way back into Gibbs' good graces instead. He'll give Gibbs that goofy puppy dog grin, and maybe it'll be contagious and put Tony in a better mood, too. Those two have been pretty close as of late.

If he's honest with himself he's almost a little bit jealous. Not necessarily of their relationship – he would never scoff at something that makes Tony a little less likely to run off and a little more likely to settle down into a comfortable routine that doesn't freak him out – but maybe it is the relationship. But really, it's not, and it sounds like he's going in circles in his own head, but the explanation for it is just out of reach. He's not jealous of DiNozzo, or of McGee, but of the fact that they can make each other happy in a way that had belonged previously almost exclusively to him for the both of them.

It used to be him that would make Tony's sleazy smirk turn into a genuine smile with a simple, elusive 'Good job, DiNozzo.' It used to be him that could have McGee beaming with a compliment to his computer prowess when it led to a particularly helpful breakthrough on a nasty case, as far between as the encouraging words might be. And he can still do that, still does do that, but now there's a bond between the two of them that he feels like he almost has to compete with. He finds himself giving out kind words more and more often these days, and has to hold them back sometimes lest he ruin his reputation.

Well, maybe he doesn't have to, but it's a silly, childish game he's playing, and the urge to win the affection of two men that are supposed to be his team and nothing more sounds stupid even in the privacy of his own head.

He ignores the sneaky glances that Tony is sending his way, trying to judge Gibbs' mood more than likely. Gibbs flicks on his computer, checks his email, deletes a forward from DiNozzo that will surely make him stupider if he reads it. Tony is still trying to be sly, and Gibbs does roll his eyes finally.

"DiNozzo," he barks; Tony shoots straight up in his seat and Gibbs has to bite back the smile that threatens to tug at his mouth.

"Report," he says, a little softer, and Tony clears his throat, shuffles papers around his desk for a few moments, just barely long enough to begin to get on Gibbs nerves.

"Er," Tony starts, but Gibbs cuts him off with a sigh.

"McGee," McGee lifts his eyes to meet Gibbs own, but only after flitting nervously to Tony first.

"Report," Gibbs repeats, and he knows McGee will not hesitate, even if it makes Tony look like a moron. Gibbs almost feels bad. Almost.

"Sure, Boss," McGee says, pretending like nothing is out of the ordinary and Gibbs hadn't called Tony out first.

To be fair, it really isn't exactly out of the ordinary. Gibbs doesn't even really care that Tony's been screwing off all morning. McGee is click clacking at his keyboard in rhythmic staccato, and then pictures are popping up on the LCD beside Gibbs desk. Pictures of things that Gibbs had hoped he wouldn't have to look at again, but knew he would eventually. Nasty case. Two marines and some sort of weird acid that ate away enough evidence to destine the crime to the cold case file almost as soon as they reached the crime scene.

Tony is looking away – he's been more squeamish lately – but Gibbs doesn't say anything. Just watches as McGee highlights something in the picture and pulls up another next to it. Gibbs sees where he's going with this, and knows that the lead is a tiny one, but it's better than none, and he nods.

"Good job, McGee. Find Ziva and go talk to the sister again. You know the drill," he says, and McGee blessedly removes the pictures from the scene and starts packing up his gear and dialing Ziva's cell phone.

Tony looks a little hurt, but he doesn't say anything. Gibbs wants to sigh again. He hates it when something is bothering his team, and especially hates it when something is bothering DiNozzo. He could probably leave it, assume that McGee will be able to take care of whatever it is that is ailing Tony, but he doesn't like assuming, and is man enough to admit to himself that yeah, sometimes he still likes to solve all of life's little problems for Tony.

He closes out his email and locks his computer before standing up and dumping his empty coffee cup in the trash. "DiNozzo, you're with me."

"Sure thing, Boss," Tony says, and this time Gibbs is not so successful in hiding his smile when Tony's whole demeanor perks up. DiNozzo's face is pretty much as close to glowing as it can get without actually lighting up, and he shoots McGee a patented DiNozzo grin, toothy and cocky and Tony. He hopes it outshines his own enough that no one notices.

"Later, McProbie. Enjoy Ziva's death driving," he snarks, and McGee pretends not to hear him, intent on the conversation he's not yet having on the phone.

"Where to, Boss? Got a good lead? Listen, sorry about my lack of awesome response a minute ago. You know, it's still early and all, but I've got something really good, you just caught me at a bad time. Oh, hey Ziva," Tony rambles on the way to the elevator, waving at David as she makes her way to her desk, phone buzzing in her hand.

She waves the phone at McGee from the elevator, and smiles at Tony and Gibbs. "Too much coffee, Tony," is her response before she brushes past, and Gibbs would agree if he hadn't noticed the lack of paper coffee cups in the vicinity of Tony's work space.

The elevator dings and Gibbs walks in, Tony on his heels. "Recon. People watching," he answers.

"Who are we watching, Boss?" Tony asks after they're seated by the window in a warm café four blocks from the office, looking out over the slick black streets and dreary Monday faces of the crowd.

They've each got a blissfully steaming cup in front of them, Tony with a meterosexual hazelnut double latte and Gibbs with just plain coffee, and the water has finally stopped dripping into Gibbs' eyes again. This time he doesn't answer Tony at all, just stares first out at the street and then at Tony. Dinozzo doesn't say anything else, but Gibbs can tell it's killing him. Tony has a hard time keeping his mouth shut when it's just the two of them, even if he's been increasingly reserved when the whole team is around. Gibbs has to wonder what he's like when he's alone with McGee.

"What time did you get in this morning, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asks, looking back out the window.

Tony hesitates. "Uh, I dunno, Boss. 'Bout the same time as McGee, I guess."

"Want to guess again?" McGee's coat, hung next to his desk, had still been uncomfortably drippy and working on a wet floor safety hazard when Gibbs had walked in, his hair plastered almost comically to his face. Tony had been totally dry.

"Uhm. Ok. Sure," Tony starts, and he shifts under Gibbs' now focused gaze. "Maybe… four?"

"Jesus, DiNozzo," Gibbs hisses, and wants to take it back when Tony slumps in his seat, averting his eyes.

Tony's been in early for the past two weeks straight. Gibbs knows this for various reasons, but mainly because he knows Tony, and knows his habits, and it doesn't take much to set off the DiNozzo alarm in his head. Whatever sort of relationship DiNozzo's been forging with McGee, it's not enough to keep all of his demons at bay, and ever since Tony got back from the USS Seahawk, he's been sending out crazy, subconscious 'help me' vibes that Gibbs has been trying in vain to field.

But now Tony is clamming up, and Gibbs won't be able to get anything else real out of him for the rest of the day most likely. He sighs softly, looks Tony over, bloodshot eyes, messy hair, and fights back the urge to reach across the table and pull the younger man into a hug. Fights the urge to treat Tony like a kid – God, he's not kid, that's for sure – and instead just sits in silence for too long on NCIS' dime. Tony's not really working on anything big, and neither is he. Ziva and McGee can pick up their slack for today.

Tony visibly relaxes after a good twenty minutes of just sitting there, and he eventually starts to talk about this or that inane thing while Gibbs listens, quiet. Tony's not talking about anything important, not talking about what's bothering him, but maybe he's forgetting for a little while, which is all the comfort Gibbs knows how to offer him right now.

He finishes off his second coffee and stands up, stretches, when it seems like Tony is running out of things to ramble about. "C'mon," he says. "I'll buy lunch."

Tony looks at him a little suspicious. "It's only eleven, Boss. Shouldn't we maybe… I don't know. Head back and do some work?"

Gibbs quirks an eyebrow DiNozzo's way and just shakes his head. He lets a hand drop to Tony's shoulder as he walks past and gives it a reassuring squeeze. He's not even sure who he's trying to reassure, but Tony is warm under his palm, muscles relaxed like Gibbs knows he hasn't been at work in too long. "Whatever, DiNozzo. Let's go."

He ends up buying lunch for the whole team and Tony helps him carry it back to work. The rain is letting up just enough that the paper bags are enough to keep everything warm and dry, and neither Ziva nor McGee mentions their absence for most of the morning.

It is McGee, not Tony, that Gibbs watches while they eat. He watches as McGee's eyes flick over to Tony every couple minutes, even though they're each working on what is supposedly a separate case. He watches as McGee's eyes eventually wander across to Gibbs, and the younger man looks away, embarrassed, when he catches Gibbs watching back. His computer dings softly as a new email comes in, and he smirks at the sender: _McGee, Timothy. _Subject: _Nice Job, Boss. _The body of the email is empty, and he hits reply, impressed that McGee had the courage to send that at all.

He types out an _Anytime McGee _and hits send before taking another bite of the Italian sub that is almost demolished on his desk. His phone rings as another email comes in – Abby is on the line, excited about a breakthrough with the new evidence that Ziva brought her earlier – and he opens it up before he first heads out to grab a CafPow and then make his way to Abby's lab.

_I know._ it says, and Gibbs locks eyes with McGee before he grabs his coat. McGee doesn't look away this time, holds his gaze steady, and Gibbs mouth twitches upwards. He's got himself some good boys, he thinks, and heads out towards the rain one more time.


	2. Chapter 2

Gibbs is finally starting to think that things are back to normal with his team by the time the week is almost over. By team, of course, he means Tony, and to a certain degree McGee, and mostly not Ziva because when things are wrong with Ziva she's a big enough girl to take care of her own problems. In fact, he's beginning to think that everything is shaping up rather nicely, and a promising weekend of relaxation and working on his boat is just six short hours away when he gets the call from Ducky that dooms them all to working beyond the scope of late and well into the timeframe of ludicrous. Naturally, Thursday's accidental suicide turns out to be Friday's malicious homicide, this being realized only after they find the body of the second man and Ducky is able to put two and two together.

They actually manage to bring their killer in around two in the morning and throw him in a holding cell to wait for Monday to roll around. He's off the street and questioning and the brunt of the paper work can wait until the work week. Gibbs sends his very tired, very grumpy team home with a promise that he'll fill out the stuff that can't wait on his own. They did most of the hunting down, anyhow, and he's not really craving sleep as much as he should be. So much for starting the weekend bright and early Saturday morning. More like ending it bright and early.

Not even DiNozzo argues as he and Ziva trudge wearily towards the mercy of the elevator. They're practically leaning on each other, though Gibbs knows Ziva is mostly show. She'll probably end up driving Tony home, and Gibbs wonders why McGee isn't the one who Tony's falling asleep on.

His question is answered when he looks up from accused murderer holding bullshit form 14b or whatever it is he has to fill out before he finally runs out of steam. McGee is standing in front of his desk, hands clasped awkwardly behind his back, shifting from foot to foot. Dark circles are highlighting his eyes, and he looks paler than usual, which is a feat for McGee.

Gibbs lets him stand there until he finishes filling out his form before he stashes his pen in his desk and looks up again. "Yeah, McGee?"

McGee must have fallen asleep on his feet, because he startles in a highly unbecoming way that almost lands his ass on the floor. He shakes his head hard, and offers a sheepish smile. "Sorry, Boss. Bad night and a long day is a bad combination."

Gibbs gives him a look that he hopes conveys something along the lines of 'Life story not necessary,' and McGee clears his throat. "Yeah, sorry, not important," he amends. "I was just wondering. Uh."

Gibbs is tired, even if he knows he won't be sleeping anytime soon. His body is tired. His mind is tired. His eyes are tired, and if he has to sit here staring at the walls of NCIS until McGee finds it in him to spill whatever problem has him staying late – early – to chat Gibbs up, he might just eat his own gun. He thought they were getting somewhere confrontation wise with those emails earlier this week. Apparently he thought wrong.

"And here I thought we were making progress," he interrupts, and McGee lets his mouth open and close a couple times like a confused, sleepy fish, before he twists his mouth up in a pout that is very much McGee. Naturally, it's only because it's way too late that Gibbs lets himself think it's almost endearing.

"Come again?" McGee asks, and Gibbs just smiles and shakes his head.

"Never mind, McGee. Just spit it out, please, so we can both go home."

McGee nods. "Yeah. That. Sorry – I just – oh, screw it. Do you want to come over for movie night tomorrow?" he finally asks, and Gibbs has to admit that he's a little taken aback by the sudden and very much unexpected offer.

"To Tony's, I mean," he amends quickly, as if that were supposed to make everything suddenly clearer.

He pauses for a second, and Gibbs is about to open his mouth to answer when McGee starts up again. "Wait," he says. "Before you say no. It would really mean a lot to Tony. Whatever you said to him Monday cheered him up, but he's been pretty off lately, you know? Of course you know, you're Gibbs. And it's getting worse, whatever it is. And I'm really getting worried about him, and I'm not sure what to do. I've never dealt with this sort of thing before. I just-"

He takes a breath. Gibbs knows McGee must be half out of it from lack of sleep if he's rambling like this to him of all people. He tries again to answer, and almost laughs when McGee cuts him off again. Almost. It's still quarter 'til three in the morning, after all, and he's still sitting here listening to McGee channel DiNozzo when he should be at home in bed.

"Deliverance – the movie, I mean. Apparently it's a sin that I've never seen it -- and there'll be beer. And pizza."

"You don't have to bribe me, McGee," Gibbs finally gets in. "I'll be there. Now go home. You sound like Tony."

McGee looks so relieved that Gibbs has to worry just how bad things are with DiNozzo. And wonder just how close he and McGee are getting that McGee is having an anxiety attack bad enough to solicit Gibbs' attention. It doesn't matter. McGee came to him for help, and he'd have helped even if Tony hadn't been involved, but the fact that he is just makes Gibbs anticipate the night a little more.

McGee nods again. "Sure. Yeah," he grins. "God, home sounds good. See you tonight, Boss. Movie starts at eight."

Gibbs just smiles his assent and waits until McGee has caught the elevator down before he stands up to do the same. He wants to think, and doesn't want to be stuck in a metal box with one of people he needs to think about. That, and it honestly takes a minute to work up the energy to stand up at all. His back creaks in protest and he growls softly to himself. Getting too damn old for this. Maybe he should have stayed in Mexico.

He shakes his head at that thought as he hits the button to head down and towards the sanctuary of his bed. No. Shouldn't have stayed in Mexico. If there's one thing he can be sure of, it's that he belongs here. He's got too much invested in this team of his that it is slowly spiraling into the realm of much more than just a team. He's probably getting too close to them all, really, but he can't bring himself to care. It's actually kind of nice to have people to worry about again.

That night he shows up at Tony's gloriously well rested after sleeping until well past noon, a six pack of beer under one arm. It's McGee that opens the door in sweat pants and an old t-shirt, and Gibbs doesn't even try to assume anymore that there isn't something more between his two agents. He finds that it doesn't even bother him. More than doesn't bother him. Which does kind of bother him, that being the fact that he's putting so much thought into this.

He holds up the beer. "Wouldn't want to run out," he jokes, and McGee holds the door open for him to step inside.

He hands the beer to McGee to hold while he slips out of his jacket, then takes it back to stash it in Tony's fridge. It's worryingly empty, just a couple condiment bottles, some take out containers and the beer that McGee has assumedly supplied. Gibbs pretends not to notice and stashes his contribution next to the Corona.

He claps McGee on the back on his way towards the living room, lets his hand slide up to squeeze reassuringly at the back of his neck, something he'd never ever do at work, but it seems appropriate. McGee is just standing there, looking worried, and Gibbs feels the urge to fix everything well up frighteningly quick in the pit of his stomach. McGee looks a little shocked at the touch, but he doesn't flinch or pull away or mention it at all (thank God) and Gibbs shifts by him to drop down on the couch next to Tony, who's fiddling with the remote.

Tony actually looks shocked to see him, and Gibbs guesses that McGee didn't tell him they were having company. Gibbs pretends to ignore this as well, but files it away with _empty fridge_ and _McGee in sweatpants_ in the back of his head in what he is deeming his mental 'figure up what's eating at DiNozzo' file.

"So, dueling banjos, huh?" Gibbs says, eyes locked on the title screen of the DVD that's already been stuck in the player.

Tony rolls with it like Gibbs assumed he would. DiNozzo may act dense sometimes, but he's definitely not the disillusioned ex-college frat boy people like to think he is. Well, maybe sometimes he is. But mostly, DiNozzo is just DiNozzo. Goofy to a point, constantly flirtatious, and almost always hyper aware of his surroundings. Gibbs thinks that sometimes he just doesn't know how to process all the information that he takes in.

Right now, though, Tony is in his zone. He's on his own turf, about to watch a movie he can almost certainly recite along with the actors, and he's relaxing into his own couch, smack dab in the middle. He looks sinfully aware of himself in an Ohio State jersey that no doubt has 'DiNozzo' emblazoned across the back and old worn out jeans. It's a side of Tony that he rarely shows at work. He doesn't have to be the center of attention, doesn't need it like he does when they're all working a case, but Gibbs knows he will be all the same.

"Pizza?" Gibbs asks, and Tony grins.

"McTakeOut!" he shouts over the back of the couch, and Gibbs finally realizes that McGee has disappeared. "When's the pizza gonna get here? Your film education can't wait forever."

McGee comes back into the room, eyes rolling. "Yeah, yeah DiNozzo. Should be here any second now."

The doorbell rings and Tony gives McGee a look of awe. "You are a God among men, Probie. Truly. Did you know he was psychic, Boss? We could use that at work, I bet."

"Shut up, Tony. You're not funny," McGee chides, but he's smiling all the same as he grabs his wallet off the side table and heads to the door.

Gibbs brings his hand into contact with the back of Tony's head, lighter than usual. "Seriously, DiNozzo."

When Tony presses back into the touch Gibbs lets his hand drop to the back of Tony's neck to stroke gently with his thumb. McGee sets the pizza down in front of them a moment later, and Gibbs knows he's giving him a side long glance as Gibbs pulls his hand away. Tony doesn't seem to notice anything at all, distracted by the glorious offering McGee has set before him.

"Yes," he moans. "Double cheese, triple meat, quadruple heaven. Most excellent."

Gibbs snorts. "Are you just going to stare at it, Keanu?"

Tony shoots him a grin. "I'm telling you, it was his only good role. Neo's got nothing on Ted. "

"I have no idea what you two are talking about, but I'm going to ignore you and eat," McGee says as he reaches for the box and flips the lid back.

Gibbs has to agree; if the aroma of crisp baked crust and extra pepperoni is anything to judge by, McGee's got the right idea. They all dig in and Tony finally hits play on the remote, sinking back into the couch and placing his sock clad feet precariously close to an open beer on the coffee table. Gibbs looks over him to McGee, who has taken way too big of a bite and is trying not to laugh with a full mouth at the look of horror that Gibbs is sending his way. Over all, it's shaping up to be a pretty decent night.

Things turn a little weird half way through their second movie – From Russia with Love at Tony's insistence. For someone who was particularly insistent on the perusal of the acting talent of Sean Connery, he is very much asleep. Gibbs shoots McGee a look over the slumbering Tony, and McGee just shrugs. "Hasn't been sleeping well," he explains.

"Like you haven't been sleeping well?"

"Eh. Kind of. More like, I haven't been sleeping well because he hasn't," McGee has looked away from Gibbs and back at the movie, but Gibbs knows it's only because he can't admit all this while looking Gibbs in the eye.

"Yeah, figured as much," Gibbs says, and he catches the quick, scared glance that McGee sends his way before training his eyes back on Connery. "What's got him sleeping so bad?"

McGee licks his lips and swallows, and for a minute Gibbs doesn't think he's going to answer. "I'm… not sure. He won't talk about it. Something from when he was on the Seahawk, I think."

Gibbs grimaces. He hates thinking about when he was without his team and stuck with the bumbling trio of Langer, Lee and Keating. He really hates to think that something might have happened to them during that time, and all because Vance didn't have the balls to come out and say he was trying to vet a leak. He knows it was hardest on Tony, but he figured it was just being cooped up on a ship and having to corral way too many sailors who didn't want to be corralled, and maybe the lack of female companionship. Now, though, he can't help but think he should have seen there was something else there ages ago.

Tony is twitching lightly in his sleep, and McGee is looking more lost than Gibbs has ever seen him. It's actually almost heartbreaking, and he sighs, reaches for the remote and hits the power button. The last thing he wants is a half drunk McGee crying on the couch with a nightmare addled Tony. Gibbs reaches across Tony's shaking form and threads his hand through McGee's hair – much softer than he would have imagined for someone that slicks it back so tight every morning – and tugs him in closer. Tony calms down a little at the contact, McGee pressing up against his side, and Gibbs is amazed that McGee looks so shocked. Maybe they aren't as close as Gibbs had thought.

"It's going to be OK, McGee," Gibbs says, voice soft so he doesn't wake Tony from his fitful slumber; If the rings that are still under McGee's eyes are any indication, any sleep is good sleep for the both of them. "Tony's going to be OK. You're going to be OK. I don't know what exactly this thing between you two is, but I know it's a good thing, and it's going to be OK, too."

McGee nods almost robotically, his eyes unfocused, flicking back and forth from Tony to Gibbs. His tongue darts out to lick at his lips again before he worries the bottom one with his teeth. Gibbs knows that look. He's contemplating something, letting what Gibbs said sink in and weighing consequences. Gibbs finds out what for a moment later when McGee leans in a little further and brushes his mouth over Gibbs' own just barely and pulls back.

Gibbs isn't sure what to do, what he's supposed to say, if he's supposed to politely remind McGee that he's in a relationship (or relationship like thing) or what when he feels more than hears Tony's breath hitch beneath him. Then he knows. Knows that Tony's been awake much longer than he thought, and that the invitation McGee just extended him wasn't just an invitation from McGee. He glances down to catch Tony's half lidded stare, lips just barely parted, pupils dilated. He looks back up at McGee, who's looking a little bit scared, but there's no regret in that narrowed gaze, blue eyes daring.

Yeah, he thinks as he lets himself fall back to his proper position on the couch, head hitting the plush back and eyes squinting shut. Things just took a turn down what the fuck lane, and he's not sure if he'll be able to find the exit to bail. He's not even sure he wants to.


	3. Chapter 3

Leroy Jethro Gibbs has been in many a strange situation before. He was a marine, fought in Desert Storm, saw things that no man should have to see, has seen things that most will never get to. He's been stuck in bad situations, crazy situations and nearly impossible situations and has always managed to pull through. In fact, up until he joined NCIS and met Tony DiNozzo (followed eventually, of course, by McGee) he had thought nothing could surprise him anymore. He has been proven wrong on many occasions, and it is usually just as he's falling into a false sense of security that says he really, _really_ can't be surprised anymore that DiNozzo comes out and does something really, _really_ stupid.

In fact, this is probably the first time in a long time that the surprise factor hasn't actually been initiated by Tony (McGee. Who'd have thought it would be McGee? He never thought it would be McGee.). It's also the first time in a long time that he's not sure 'stupid' is the best word to describe the situation. Highly inconceivable. Very strange. Not really stupid.

Also, it's the first time in a long time that he's facing a situation where the next step to solve the puzzle doesn't jump immediately to the forefront of his mind. He's much better at dealing with things that explode than people, and he wonders if he might fare better with a live grenade shoved into his hands than Anthony DiNozzo and Timothy McGee watching him with God damn bedroom eyes, waiting for him to make the next move.

And he knows he has to be the one to make the next move. McGee has thrust the ball into his court, and DiNozzo has signaled his assent. But that doesn't mean that Gibbs has to make any decisions tonight. Not when he's buzzed from too many beers and bad movies and the feel of Tony pressing against him, breath ragged and unsure. Not when McGee is watching him like that, like he's trying to read Gibbs, like he can read Gibbs, knows what's going on in his head, what he's thinking about. He probably does know what Gibbs is thinking about, to be fair, but only because when you're male subordinate kisses you over your other male subordinate during boys night in, it would be really weird to not be thinking about it. Not because Tony was right and McGee really is psychic. Just sneaky. And better at setting things up than Gibbs has given him credit for thus far.

"I think," he finally manages to get out. "That maybe it's time for bed."

And that perhaps didn't come out right. He looks over with a wince to see McGee's mouth hanging open and DiNozzo wide eyed. Gibbs clears his throat. "Not like that," he clarifies, but his voice is low and hoarse and probably betraying every dirty thought he shouldn't be having right now. "We can talk about this in the morning. DiNozzo, I'm crashing on your couch tonight."

He hears Tony swallow hard next to him and cough a little. "Yeah. Ok. Are you sure? Couch isn't very comfy."

He chuckles quietly. "I'm sure. Go to bed, DiNozzo."

Tony looks like he doesn't want to leave the couch, and Gibbs is pretty sure that he's scared Gibbs won't actually be there in the morning to talk. McGee just looks uncomfortable, like he maybe has a stomach ache. Probably it's just finally setting in that he kissed his boss, and Gibbs is willing to bet that he hadn't actually factored kissing Gibbs into this brilliant plan of movies, pizza and male bonding.

"C'mon, Tim," Tony says finally, standing up and offering McGee a hand up from the couch.

Gibbs raises an amused eyebrow, but says nothing. Whether it was a late night slip up or Tony's just getting comfortable with Gibbs knowing about him and McGee doesn't matter to Gibbs, but McGee is looking even paler as he takes the proffered hand and lets Tony haul him to his feet.

"I guess I'll go find you a blanket and a pillow, Boss," DiNozzo offers, catching Gibbs eyes, and Gibbs nods.

"Would make sleeping a bit more comfortable, yeah," he jokes, and DiNozzo manages a weak smile.

He leaves McGee standing awkwardly in his wake, shifting and looking around the room at nothing in particular, to go find said blanket. Gibbs thinks he probably did it on purpose and almost wants to laugh. McGee is practically twitching, but he finally catches Gibbs' steady gaze, and when he doesn't look away again Gibbs breath just barely catches in his throat.

McGee tilts his head to the side ever so slightly, taking the opportunity to study Gibbs, and Gibbs is happy to let him. He's not about to walk away from this – whatever this is – not about to walk away from Tony or from McGee. He cares about them too much to hurt them like that. But they have to tread this ground carefully, tentatively. He has to take this slow, think things through before he acts. He thinks that right now he might like to kiss McGee again, and he wonders if it's a bad idea.

Gibbs tips his head back a little, motioning for McGee to come a little closer, and the younger man's eyes narrow in suspicion. Gibbs snorts.

"What do you think I'm going to do, McGee?" he asks, and hides his smirk as best he can when McGee actually pauses to contemplate the question.

"Fire me?" he answers, and Gibbs barks out a laugh.

"I can do that just as well with you over there," McGee looks vaguely horrified until Gibbs has mercy on him. "But I'm not going to. Just come over here, _Tim_."

McGee's eye actually twitches at the mocking use of his first name, but he shrugs nervously and wanders the few steps over to stand before the still seated Gibbs. Gibbs reaches up and pulls McGee down by the collar of his shirt, letting his hand slide through McGee's hair again to he can't exactly get away. Gibbs lets his other hand drop to the waist band of McGee's sweats to sneak up just barely under the shirt, warm skin a little sticky from sweat under the pads of his fingers. "I told you, McGee. Everything's going to be OK," Gibbs repeats quietly. "Tony will be OK. _Everything_ will be."

McGee's head drops forward to rest against Gibbs, and Gibbs can feel his breath ragged and scared across his face. His eyes are shut tight and he swallows hard before Gibbs drops both his hands and lets McGee pull free. Tony is leaning against the couch with blanket and pillow in tow, just watching them again, and Gibbs would give just about anything right now to really know what's running through his mind.

"DiNozzo," he says, without really looking over, and DiNozzo drops the pillow and blanket on the couch next to Gibbs.

"Boss," Tony answers, trying to hide the shake in his voice. "Pillow. Blanket. You know where the bathroom and stuff is."

He's trying very hard to act nonchalant, and Gibbs tries very hard to not smile at the effort. McGee has backed up against the coffee table, and he's just taking in the exchange, watching and learning. Learning the tentative banter between Jethro and Tony, instead of Gibbs and DiNozzo. Tony moves forward jerkily, obviously tired, but as confidant as Tony ever is, and he sits back down in the middle of the couch, hip pressing up against Gibbs' hip, thigh pressing against Gibbs' thigh. He leans in and Gibbs knows what's coming next, doesn't fight it, but doesn't push any farther than Tony pushes.

Tony's kiss is nothing like McGee's, the press of chapped mouth against dry lips, not soft like McGee, who must have a thing for chapstick. But it's warmer and longer, and Gibbs can tell that Tony only pulls back because he's afraid of pushing Gibbs too far, not because he's afraid of Gibbs' reaction. McGee has already hacked a path past that complication for him.

"Night, Boss," he whispers as he pulls away, and Gibbs just grunts in reply.

Tony stands and gives McGee a look, nodding towards the bedroom, and McGee follows him, glancing back at Gibbs as they leave. "Night, Boss," McGee says, too, and Gibbs tilts his head in response, watching McGee retreat, feet shuffling across the floor.

He watches them until they're in the bedroom and he can't see them anymore beyond the door frame, but the door itself stays open, and Gibbs knows there won't be anything but sleep happening in that room tonight. They both looked absolutely exhausted standing in front of him, and he wonders how McGee actually managed to stay awake and not join DiNozzo in dreamland during the movies. The answer probably has a little something to do with manners, but mostly something to do with the fact that he's not quite as comfortable around Gibbs as Tony is yet.

It'll come with time, Gibbs knows, but he hopes that both DiNozzo and McGee manage to catch some decent shut eye tonight after a long evening of too many revelations and too much pizza. Gibbs knows he certainly won't be getting much, not after sleeping half the day away like a teenager. And that's really what he feels like right now, a teenager, which is absolutely absurd. He hasn't been this unsure about the start of a relationship (is that even what Tony and McGee want?) since his first high school girlfriend.

He must have fallen asleep at some point, because he wakes up with a start that almost has him tumbling ungracefully off Tony's couch. At first he thinks that it must have been a noise from outside that woke him, because nothing strikes him as really off in the dark of the apartment, until he lays back down and closes his eyes again. Then he hears it, figures out what it was exactly that woke him up, muffled noises coming from DiNozzo's bedroom that he's pretty sure aren't the sounds of Tony and McGee doing things they shouldn't be with the door open. He's pretty sure it's actually whimpering, and he can take a guess at who it's coming from.

Gibbs pushes the blanket down and off himself with a sigh, throws his legs over the side of the couch to sit up and just rests there for a moment, letting his eyes adjust to the dark. He cracks his neck, stretches and stands, stares at the open door for just a moment. He tells himself he's not hesitating, just making sure that the sounds are still there, that Tony still actually needs him. Making sure McGee doesn't have it all under control without his help. After all, they've made it this far without him, and he's not exactly sure how McGee's going to react if he trudges into the bedroom. Gibbs hopes he's not naked.

But the whimpering is still there, not constant or consistent, but the occasional heartbreaking sound that almost makes Gibbs want to go in there and hug Tony, hug McGee, who's probably lost and confused if he hasn't actually woken Tony up yet. Maybe he thinks nightmares are like sleep walking, where you're not supposed to wake someone up, because they'll freak out. Or maybe McGee's just afraid to wake Tony because he _knows_ he'll freak out.

Either way, doesn't matter. Gibbs finally moves towards the bedroom, nearly trips on the pants he shucked off before laying down, and pauses just a second in the doorway to catalogue the situation and make sure he doesn't botch everything up by tripping over someone's shoe. He bets it would be DiNozzo's. But the path is clear and he can make out McGee laying on the bed, propped up on one pillow, hand hovering over Tony, afraid to touch.

Gibbs doesn't know what McGee was thinking when he started screwing around with DiNozzo, but he bets that an emotionally distressed Tony was not part of the initial bargain. McGee's too nice, though, gets attached too easily. He's trying to take it all in stride and help Tony out; he just doesn't know how, and Gibbs bets that scares him more than an actual relationship with Tony. Ironic, really, because Gibbs has always thought 'relationship' and 'Tony' together in the same sentence was pretty scary himself.

McGee glances up when Gibbs comes a little closer, and as he gets in near enough to make out McGee's features, he sees McGee's forehead is creased in worry and he's shaking almost as much as Tony.

"Go on, McGee," Gibbs chides gently. "Touch him."

Gibbs sits on the edge of the bed, putting Tony in between himself and McGee, and he watches as McGee finally lets his hand drop like Gibbs knows he's been wanting to do to simply rest on top of Tony's heaving chest. For a moment, McGee is still. Then he ever so gently starts to rub in little soothing circles, rubs down and over Tony's stomach, his sides, up to his face. He is once again in awe as Tony starts to calm, like he's amazed that Tony would take any comfort in his touch.

Gibbs brings his own hand up to Tony's face to give his cheek a few light taps with his palm. Tony is still shaking, still twitching, still making pathetic sounds, though it's calmed at least a little under McGee's exploring hand. "DiNozzo," he says softly, not quite a whisper, but it still sounds almost too loud in the dark room.

Tony's face is buried in his pillow, his eyes clenched shut, teeth gritted. Gibbs can see the rapid movement of the flickering under his eyelids as Tony fights whatever demons are plaguing him in his sleep. It's no wonder he's been so out of it at work, if this is the kind of rest he's been getting when he gets any at all.

"DiNozzo," he says again, this time a little louder and a little firmer, a little more like a command. "Wake up."

When Tony's eyes snap open, wide with fear, Gibbs hand stops moving and cups his face. It's a moment before Tony really seems to realize where he is and who is in bed with him.

"Back with us, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asks, and Tony nods slowly, blinking hard a couple times to get his bearings.

"Don't stop. 'S nice," he mostly slurs in the direction of McGee, who has stopped petting and is back to just sitting there, looking worried.

He looks a little shocked, probably that Tony realized McGee was touching him while he slept at all, but he starts moving his hand again, trails his fingers under the hem of Tony's shirt. Gibbs thinks that this might be the time to make a gracious exit. McGee and Tony may have extended him some sort of an invitation into their private world, but Gibbs doesn't know where the boundaries start, much less end, and he isn't about to go making an ass of himself tonight. Plus, he's really damn tired.

As he stands to leave, he hears McGee make a sound of protest and feels a hand wrap gently around his wrist. He looks back to see the hand belongs to DiNozzo, and McGee looks almost forlorn. "Stay," Tony demands, voice rough from poor sleep.

Gibbs sneaks a look towards the door, where he can see the very edge of the couch, blanket hanging off, and it's looking less and less appealing, though he knows it's the safer route to take. But he can still feel Tony gently quaking through the grip the younger man has on his wrist, and McGee's bottom lip is jutting out in the barest of pouts, the one the girls all find so irresistible, even if McGee doesn't know it.

Without saying a word he shoves at Tony's side, eyes trained on the ceiling. Dinozzo takes the hint and moves over with haste, pushing the blanket away so he can drag McGee down with him. McGee goes without argument, and Gibbs knows that they're just waiting for him before they settle in again, so he stretches warily out on his side facing Tony. Naturally, DiNozzo immediately abandons all ideals of personal space and Gibbs is pulled in close, too, while he yanks the comforter up to waist level.

As far as he can tell, the rest of the night goes smoothly for DiNozzo. No more nightmares wake Gibbs from his own slumber, and when he wakes up next, it's to McGee curled around Tony like a content cat, and Tony pressed as tight as he can get against Gibbs. He can see the clock on the nightstand if he strains hard enough, and it reads 4:45. Still dark out, even, so Gibbs lays his head back down and lets his hand ghost over Tony's back, then McGee's side, and back to Tony again. He falls back asleep to Mcgee's content mumbling and DiNozzo's mercifully deep, even breathing; decides that even if things don't work out when they all come to, this alone is pretty much worth it.


	4. Chapter 4

Things don't change too much at work come Monday. DiNozzo is as nonchalant about life as always, though Gibbs notes that his perk seems more genuine than it has as of late, and McGee is just McGee, doing what he does with his computers and staving off Tony's attempts to provoke him. Ziva seems none the wiser that the three male members of her team spent most of their weekend together, but Gibbs figures that even if she did know something was up she wouldn't say anything unless it was a problem with their performance at work. It's not, because Gibbs will never let it be, McGee is smarter than to think that anything would change at work after a weekend of doing pretty much the equivalent of a high school first date, and Tony's just overly touchy feely to begin with.

Which means that Ziva is no worry for them. Abby, on the other hand, has a sixth sense for anything emotional, this sense being especially tuned to the McGee channel. Gibbs knows that McGee can't hide anything from Abby, and he wouldn't ask him too, because if Abby found out that Gibbs didn't want her knowing something like this she would be beyond hurt in a way that no manner of CafPows could ever fix. But this also means that she already knows about Tim and Tony as Gibbs has started referring to it in his head. How she'll react to Tim and Tony and Jethro is an unknown in the equation, but she loves them all like family and Gibbs can't imagine it'll be a particularly bad reaction.

So when Abby calls him down to her lab Monday afternoon, Gibbs doesn't think too much about it. It doesn't bother him that the forensic evidence he needs her to identify is supposed to take a few more hours to even compile, figures it's just Abbs doing what she does best, like McGee with his computer genius. When he steps into the lab and doesn't immediately see Abby with her latex gloves and pigtails bent studiously over the keyboard or a Petri dish, or really anywhere in the room, he thinks that maybe he should have given a little more thought to the over-protectiveness of Abby and her McGee. Maybe also her Tony.

The door closes behind him with a swoosh, and Gibbs closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He will humor Abby, she only means well. He will humor Abby, she only means well. The mantra repeats in his head as he feels a breath of air breeze past him, not unlike the light flapping of a lab coat, and hears the screech of the evidence table on the floor as Abby assumedly takes a seat upon it.

"So," she starts. "Gibbs."

He doesn't let the smile that's threatening to peek through show itself. It wouldn't do to get her even more riled up. "Abbs," he answers casually.

"I feel like it's my duty to ask your intentions," she goes on, sounding very much like a father talking to a teenage boy about his intentions with a blushing virgin. Gibbs is fairly sure that neither Tony nor McGee are virgins, but he has seen McGee blush a very pretty pink before.

"Intentions?" he asks, playing dumb.

Abby's face scrunches up the way it does every time Gibbs jokes around with her. Like she's trying to decide if she's pleased that Gibbs is joking, or annoyed that he isn't taking her seriously. He has an idea which one will win this time.

"Honestly, Gibbs, I'm trying to be serious here."

"I know. And I promise, Abbs. I will answer every question you throw at me totally seriously. I know how much McGee means to you," he pauses. "Well, every question within reason."

Abby shakes her head. "It's not just McGee, Gibbs. It's Tony. He's been acting freaky the last couple weeks, and what if you shake things up even more? What if he can't handle the pressure and leaves?" she looks a little desperate, and Gibbs walks over to put his arm around her shoulder and pull her in tight.

"That's what I'm trying to make sure _doesn't_ happen, Abbs. Promise."

She doesn't look entirely convinced, but doesn't push it anymore, either. "Fine," she says, changing the subject away from Tony. "But I'll have you know that if McGee runs crying to my lab about his boyfriends being mean, I will beat the both of you up."

Gibbs gives her a look.

"Ok, maybe not beat you up. Maybe just Tony. But I will take a page out of his book and put superglue on your keyboard, or your cellphone, or in your shoes or something, so be careful," she warns, and Gibbs doesn't doubt for an instant that she's serious.

"Don't worry," she smiles sweetly. "I gave Tony the same warning."

Gibbs just rolls his eyes and gives her shoulder one more squeeze before pushing off from the table and heading for the door. "So I'm guessing you haven't found anything to put away our marine killer, yet?" he asks.

"Patience, Gibbs!" she chides, as if the conversation they just had never happened. "Let my magic work as it will. Sometimes you just can't rush these things."

He raises an eyebrow and tilts his head, and Abby sighs. "Two more hours and I'll deliver the results myself."

"That's my girl," Gibbs smiles at her, and Abby grins in response as he finally moves to leave the lab; he looks over his shoulder one more time as he's opening the door. "Oh, and Abbs?"

She makes a zipping motion across her crimson lips. "Not a word, Gibbs," and Gibbs just nods as he lets the door close again behind him.

He trusts Abby. Everything she said to him in that room was 100 percent truth. He'll have the results of the DNA tests on his desk in two hours on the dot. He will undoubtedly find his cell phone glued to his face if he ever hurts McGee (or Tony, for that matter). And Abby Sciuto will not tell a soul about what would be considered highly inappropriate relations with two members of the team that he heads. Ziva won't, either, even if it does get in the way of work.

She'll tell Gibbs first, and he loves her for that, like he loves Abby for being Abby, and yeah, McGee and DiNozzo for being McGee and DiNozzo. He's starting to find it almost unbearable to think about life without his team, even though he knows nothing lasts forever. It's something he learned the hard way years ago, and has learned multiple times since. It's something he hoped he wouldn't ever have to learn again, and he still hopes that he won't, as inevitable as it seems.

McGee is typing away at his desk as Gibbs makes his way back to the pen. "Abby have anything, Boss?" he asks, not looking up from his work.

"Nope," Gibbs answers, sitting down in front of his own computer; Tony and Ziva are missing, he notes, and presumes that Ziva is collecting on the last bet Tony lost to her in the form of lunch.

McGee's typing has stopped, probably mid-sentence, and Gibbs knows he's being watched. "Problem, McGee?" he asks.

"Uh, no. Of course not. I've traced our killer's cell and he never made any calls to the victims," he starts explaining. "But he did call a pay phone outside a bar off K street multiple times, most of which coinciding with witness accounts of our victims at the same bar."

Gibbs nods. "Nice work, McGee," he says as he starts to check his email; he knows the curiosity is practically killing McGee.

"So, Boss," he starts, and pauses for just a moment, like he's not sure he wants to finish his thought. He does anyway. "What did Abby want, if she didn't have anything?"

Gibbs briefly considers coming up with something other than the truth, but figures there's no point. McGee knows why Gibbs was down there, he just wants confirmation. "She wanted to threaten me with super glue."

"She- she what?" McGee stutters just as the elevator dings and Tony and Ziva step out. Gibbs thinks Tony's ears are tinged with red as he sits down, and Ziva might very well be subtly smirking.

"Super glue, McGee," Gibbs repeats before turning his attention to DiNozzo and David, signaling the end of a conversation that will probably freak McGee out all day. "DiNozzo, David, report."

Tony clears his throat and acts like nothing is amiss, standing up from his desk to hand Gibbs a folder with information on their murderer's accomplices. "Pretty sure it's him, Boss. Alibi's all check out, but they all check out wrong, and I've got a confession from an ex-girlfriend saying he was pretty buddy-buddy with both our dead guys awhile back."

"I went to his house," Ziva continues for Tony. "And his mail box was very full. It looks like he hasn't been there for possibly multiple weeks. We think he has been hiding out in an apartment building a block away from both victims."

"Sounds good," Gibbs says. "Abby should be up here soon enough with the last of the evidence we need. Looks like we might not even need a real interrogation."

Tony sends a grin the size of Texas Gibbs' way, and he has to conscientiously tell himself not to return it. McGee is even smiling softly behind his computer. "Aw, where's the fun in that, Boss? You could go wring one out of him before Abby comes up."

"I think I'll just wait, DiNozzo. Thanks," Gibbs does smile a little, and Tony looks particularly happy as he sits back down.

No, nothing has changed at work. Not that he'll let anyone see at least. He notices, though, notices the little differences that might have actually been there all along, but weren't obvious until he spent a night watching movies and building bridges at DiNozzo's. He notices himself noticing, notices DiNozzo and McGee, Tony and Tim, Tony and Tim. He notices them like he's never before, like in the dark of that apartment, in the pitch black of the bedroom, someone turned on a light, opened the shade, let in the sun.

Now he sees Tony like he didn't before, sees the way his eyes half close and his mouth half opens and he breathes out softly when something frustrates him just a little; sees the way his hair has gotten a little longer and brushes his ears just barely, enough to tickle, enough to bother, enough to make his eyebrows knit in annoyance and make him look ten years younger, fifteen years younger, like he's still in undergrad, not very agent-like, but very Tony-like. Watchable. Gorgeous. He can see what all the girls see in Tony, finally lets himself see it.

He sees McGee, too, can't stop watching McGee, Probie, Elf Lord, geek of the group – but he's not the mousey computer guy anymore, he's _Agent Timothy McGee at your service,_ and he can shoot 'em up with the best. He can stare a man down. He's confident now like he wasn't when he first came to Gibbs, and Gibbs is both proud and a little scared, because he really doesn't know this newer McGee like he knew the old McGee. He knows the 'Yes Boss, whatever you say Boss' McGee, the push over McGee, and McGee may still do whatever Gibbs says without question, but it's because he trusts Gibbs, not because he's afraid. He came to Gibbs. He started this. He's still here. And he's staring back, that subtle smile lighting up his eyes, and he looks sure of himself, Tony to his left, Gibbs to his front.

Gibbs thinks back to the weekend, as he has found himself doing too often since he left DiNozzo's yesterday at noon. The fluorescent lights flickering over McGee as he tilts his head in exasperation remind Gibbs of the way the sunlight filtered in through the blinds and woke McGee Sunday morning, sleepy, confused, a little apprehensive. Tony is on the phone and laughing at something, sending Ziva a grin over his computer, and Gibbs can't stop thinking of Tony smirking in bed, awake before anyone else, just laying there in a rare display of patience. He can't stop thinking and remembering and they didn't even _do_ anything for Christ's sake, which means _damn _Gibbs has got it bad. But he's always had a soft spot for DiNozzo, and McGee managed to worm his way past Gibbs' defenses without Gibbs even realizing what was happening.

_Nothing even happened_, he tells himself again. Nothing happened. They kissed, they slept, they woke up. Gibbs left to the commotion of McGee and DiNozzo fighting over the remote and what to watch on a Sunday morning when there wasn't anything good on TV anyway. He had felt a little like a third wheel, a little like maybe it had been a mistake to let his defenses down at all, the way Tim and Tony seemed to click at home in a way so different than the way they clicked at work.

But then his cell had rung, buzzed the annoying Shakira song that Tony had managed to switch his ringtone to without Gibbs' permission or knowledge. He should have learned his lesson by now – never trust Tony with electronics, especially now that he hangs out too much with McGee and he knows more than how to break things. He hadn't even made it to his car before Tony's voice was humming in his ear, trying to mask the worried shake to his words and failing.

"Hey Boss, Gibbs – uh, I. See you at work tomorrow, right?" Tony had said, and Gibbs didn't bother to hide the smile that crossed his face; no one was watching.

"Yeah, DiNozzo, I'll be there," he answered.

"And maybe we'll see you next Saturday?" Tony was trying to sound casual. "It's McGee's turn to pick the movie, but I'll let you pick it if you want. Probie's got bad taste."

McGee had made a sound of protest somewhere in the background, and a muffled 'hey!' floated through to Gibbs' end before McGee's voice replaced Tony's. "I've got fine taste," he said. "But I don't mind if you pick. And Tony should probably take a hint and stop being an asshole."

Gibbs is pretty sure that comment had been directed at Tony on the couch and not at Gibbs, so he had ignored it. "Yeah, I'll be there, McGee. See you at work tomorrow."

"See you, Gibbs," McGee had said, sounding content and Sunday morning lazy like Gibbs had never heard him before until Tony grabbed back the phone.

"Yeah," Tony had said, breathless. "Unless you want to come over before then."

"I'll bring the movie Saturday, DiNozzo," Gibbs had responded, laughing a little and trying not to before flipping the phone closed.

He still hasn't changed the ringtone.

The rest of the week passes in a flurry as one case is overshadowed by another, and then another. It is the busiest week they have had in years, even busier than Gibbs had expected Karma to bless them with after the slow period. By the time Friday rolls around the good mood of the previous weekend is wearing dangerously thin, and Gibbs can't help but notice that both DiNozzo and McGee look like they've been pulling all-nighters. Tony, in fact, is looking uncannily like he's gotten into some sort of bar fight and come out with two fading black eyes, but Gibbs knows there's been no time for drunken brawls, no time for anything, and he knows that it's a lack of sleep that has his best agent dragging his feet when he should be sprinting.

McGee, too, is looking worse for wear, and the looks that he's been sending Gibbs' way have been pitiful at best. Gibbs isn't even sure McGee knows he's doing it, but the further along the week gets, the more touchy-feely McGee gets. A clap on Tony's shoulder, a brush of their hands as they pass in the hallway. He stands closer to Gibbs in the elevator the closer they get to Friday and the more strenuous they're workload becomes. He leans over Gibbs at his desk to fix whatever stupid mistake Gibbs has made on his computer when he could have just told him what to do, brushes his fingertips over Gibbs arm to get his attention. Gibbs is fairly sure it correlates directly with how out of sorts Tony gets. The more Tony freaks the more McGee freaks, and the more they both want recognition of a relationship that is still feeble and wobbly at best.

Gibbs realizes that the best solution to the problem is to either knock the wobbly relationship off it's feet before they even get a chance to form attachments that go beyond repair. It's also the least desirable option, he's pretty sure for all of them, and he can never really deny Tony or even McGee anything that means something, especially if he doesn't really want to deny it to himself. He's not above selfishness. And so he decides on the second best option, which is stabilizing whatever it is that is forming between them before a stray wind knocks it all ashamble.

It's about four o'clock Friday afternoon when Ziva slips away to the restroom and leaves Gibbs in the relative peace of the pen with McGee and Tony. They still have a couple hours of work left to go, but they'll be getting out at a decent hour compared to last Friday (which had actually been Saturday when they left), but that doesn't mean that the day has been any easier. They've all been in and out of the building chasing leads and hunting down people who didn't want to be hunted down, interviewing family members and friends of suspects, taking photos, and filling out paperwork. McGee's been doing even more than that, and Gibbs knows he's been running his youngest agent ragged, but he hasn't had much other choice. Even Abby has had her hands almost too full to handle.

"McGee," Gibbs says, and McGee glances up very briefly from his computer, a pained expression on his face.

"Yeah, Boss?" he asks, and Gibbs knows he's terrified that Gibbs has found something new for him to do, possibly something impossible that he will have to make possible.

"You going to be at DiNozzo's tonight?" Gibbs was apparently right about McGee expecting something very different, because for what seems like the first time in the past two hours McGee stops typing; Tony, does, too, and hangs up the phone with a curt 'I'll call back on Monday, thanks,' to whatever idiot was on the other end of the line.

"I... could be, I guess," he answers, and sends a look Tony's way that is answered with a tight nod even though Tony's eyes are trained on Gibbs.

"How about we do movie night early," Gibbs suggests.

Tony answers for McGee just as Ziva makes her way back to her desk and sits down to get back to work. "Sure thing, Boss," he says, and it sounds completely natural. Gibbs might as well have been telling him to find a phone number or look up an address.

Tony works a little easier after that, finishing up for the day quicker and more efficiently than he's done anything since Wednesday, and is able to head out before all of them. He gives Gibbs a questioning glance as he slings his coat over one shoulder, and Gibbs just looks back. "What, DiNozzo?" he asks.

"Nothing. See you later Boss, Probie," he replies with a smirk, and Gibbs nods at him.

"Later, Tony," McGee says over the clacking of his keyboard.

Tony taps on Ziva's desk and gives her a half salute before he heads towards the elevator, and Gibbs has to give him credit for not looking back. He notices the slight bounce in Tony's step, the quickened pace, the twitch of his hands. Tony, as skilled as he can be at hiding things when he needs to, is finding it very hard to hide his excitement this evening. A lot of it is probably the lack of sleep over the past week, but some of it is very likely nervous, pre-date jitters that Gibbs didn't think Tony even knew about anymore.

McGee finishes up not terribly long thereafter, just minutes after Gibbs sends Ziva home for the evening, and he catches Gibbs eyes as he stands up. Gibbs figures this is as good a time as any to leave; there's nothing on his desk that won't be there Monday, unfortunately, and he might be looking forward to later just a little, too. McGee can't hide the grin that sneaks onto his face as Gibbs follows him into the elevator and through the garage.

"Wanna ride, Boss?" McGee asks casually as Gibbs turns to his car to hide a smile.

"Nope," he answers, and he can practically feel the tension rising in McGee as he contemplates whether or not he did something wrong. "But I'll give you one, if you want."

"Uh—" McGee stutters, and Gibbs is smug in the knowledge that he can still catch McGee of guard. "I mean, yeah. Sure. Great."

Gibbs unlocks the car and McGee slides in, shrugs down on the leather seats and looks a little like a kid trying not to break anything. Gibbs pretends not to notice and buckles his seat belt, hearing the click of McGee's before he turns over the engine and listens to the car roar to life. McGee is breathing deep and steady next to him, trying to get comfortable without moving too much, and Gibbs reaches over to give him a tap to the back of the head.

"Relax," he says softly and flicks on the radio low for ambient noise.

He should stop by his house to grab a movie, he knows, so they can at least pretend that tonight is really movie night, but he can't bring himself to waste the time it'll take to get there and back. "Need anything from your place?" he asks McGee, and is both relieved and a little unnecessarily jealous when McGee shakes his head. It means they don't have to stop, but it's another reminder that McGee has been staying at DiNozzo's place for longer than Gibbs even knew there was a DiNozzo and McGee.

He gets over it quick enough. It's stupid and juvenile thoughts like that that break normal relationships, much less crazy experimental ones like this. There's no need to destroy this before they've even had the chance to see where it runs. It's a little disturbing, he thinks, that he can categorize what the three of them have as a relationship when everything's so new, but there's no denying the spark that has been flaring up all week, McGee's proposal the weekend before, Tony's insistent mouth over Gibbs own. He doesn't want to deny it. He just doesn't want to mess anything up. More than anything, he wants to steer Tony and McGee back in the right direction, away from the breaking point that they're both teetering so close to, Tony with his unspoken issues and McGee in his attempted salvation.

Tony is standing in the doorway as they pull in and McGee looks surprised. "Your psychic powers must be rubbing off on me, McGee," Tony grins, and McGee gives him a look that says 'yeah fucking right, DiNozzo,' even though McGee doesn't even bother opening his mouth to respond.

"Or maybe I was waiting for the delivery guy. Chinese – egg rolls, fortune cookies and happy endings," he says, and McGee actually snorts in disbelief.

"Don't worry, McCan'tTakeAJoke," Tony assures him. "I ordered _you_ boring old Szechuan Chicken."

"Can we maybe continue this witty banter inside?" Gibbs suggests from behind McGee and Tony shrugs in apology.

"Sure, Boss. After you," he says and moves back from the doorway to usher them through.

"Thank you, _Tony_," Gibbs replies as he shoves McGee gently through the door and past Tony, and wonders if Tony is awake enough to get the hint; As much as it doesn't bother him that both DiNozzo and McGee are in the habit of calling him Boss in and out of work, he's sure it'll get awkward soon enough.

McGee looks back at him over one shoulder and Gibbs figures that he at least got it. Tony is still staring out his front door, apparently watching for his illusive Chinese, and Gibbs places a firm hand on his shoulder, steering him away from the front door and letting it close behind them. "He'll knock," he assures Tony and pushes him in the direction of the living room.

McGee catches Gibbs eye and lifts an exasperated shoulder before following Tony into the living room. Gibbs kicks off his shoes and wanders through the apartment to join them, finds McGee's shoes and coat stashed by a wall on the way, finds McGee and DiNozzo sitting in the same spots they were sitting in last weekend, Tony in the middle of the couch, slouched back. They have a game turned on that neither is really watching. Gibbs falls back onto the couch next to Tony, and they sit there for a few minutes, pretending to watch basketball long enough that he wonders if DiNozzo has actually already fallen asleep.

He knows Tony isn't asleep when he feels him shift, looks over and sees Tony swallow nervously, Adam's apple bobbing, head pressed back against the couch. McGee is sitting next to him, side pressed up totally against Tony's, feet stretched out, and Gibbs wants to laugh at the insanity of the situation. They're right back where they started, except maybe now they've even taken a step back, because neither DiNozzo nor McGee seem inclined to say or do anything that might be misconstrued as anything other than platonic. The way Tony's hand is flexing nervously next to Gibbs thigh makes him think that it's not because they don't want to.

Gibbs sighs and stands up, two pairs of eyes following him as he does. He reaches down, holds out a hand for Tony, and DiNozzo takes it hesitantly, lets Gibbs pull him to his feet. "Boss?" he asks, and Gibbs fights the urge to roll his eyes as they come face to face. McGee is watching with interest.

"Gibbs," Gibbs says, and Tony looks confused. "Or Jethro. I don't really care. Just not Boss, Tony. Not here."

He watches as Tony stands there for a minute, chews lightly on his bottom lip before his eyes narrow a little. "So this means you're going to call McGee Tim?" he asks.

Gibbs does roll his eyes now, and looks down at McGee, who's looking very interested in the answer. "Something like that," he says, and leans in to press his mouth to Tony's, slides a hand through Tony's hair and doesn't let him get away; he's been wanting to do that all week.

He wants to kiss McGee, too, and it freaks him out a little bit that not only is he interested in one male, but two -- at the same time. The fact that they're both interested back just makes it stranger, but a good kind of strange. It's been awhile since Gibbs has really subscribed to social standards, he supposes, so it's not really a huge step out of comfort bounds for him, anyways. At least, that's what he tells himself.

McGee is looking a little lonely on the couch, and Tony must sense it, too, because he doesn't try to pull away from Gibbs, just pulls him down and back onto the couch where Tony can lean into McGee, who's more than happy to share his space. Tony breaks from Gibbs' mouth for a breath, pulls away just a fraction of an inch and turns his head to the side. He reaches back and tugs McGee's face over and close to Gibbs' and Tony's own, turns a tiny bit more and catches McGee's mouth, too.

Gibbs has never been this close to two other people kissing before, and he's finding it harder than ever to convince himself that this is ok, it's not normal, but it's ok. At the same time that he's thinking this is probably the hottest thing he's ever been a part of, and they haven't even gotten to the no clothes part. Over all, two very conflicting emotions, but one is much more immediate with Tony breathless and flushed and McGee's mouth reddening from Tony's attention.

McGee's eyes are closed and Tony leans further back into the couch to allow Gibbs better access if he wants it. He does, and he's hyper aware of Tony's eyes following his face as Gibbs bridges the gap and gives in to the temptation of McGee's soft, barely parted lips. He knows Tony is enjoying watching, Gibbs is leaning into the front of him after all, and can feel every reaction stirring in Tony's body, every twitch, the jolt of his hips forward as McGee's eyes open and he can't hold back the little moan when he sees who's kissing him before his tongue darts out to trace barely over Gibbs' mouth.

Gibbs doesn't know whether to be frustrated or relieved when the doorbell rings. McGee pulls back with a start and Tony makes a little sound of protest as Gibbs rises from the couch and backs up a few unsteady steps. McGee is looking unsure of himself, like he's coming out of some sort of trance. Gibbs wonders just where McGee would have been willing to go if they hadn't been interrupted, wonders if Tony would have joined in. He thinks that things are moving a little fast, but it's hard to move slow when Tony is acting so vulnerable (so not like Tony at work, not like Special Agent DiNozzo), and when McGee is acting like he knows what he wants, even if he's scared to go for it.

He shoves some cash at the delivery guy who eyes go wide when a very frustrated Gibbs pulls open the door with enough force to pull in a rush of cool air. He growls out a "Keep the change," and steps into the kitchen to drop the bag on the counter and take a few steadying breaths. He figures eating can wait for later. Right now he's got to calm down a little, get back his cool that he so rarely loses. It seems to really only happen when DiNozzo is involved, he thinks, and bites back a bitter laugh. Now he has to put himself back in order, go back out there and make the right moves, which may not necessarily be the ones he wants to make, or they may just push him further into territory that he's never charted before, territory he's never even imagined charting.

Gibbs walks back to the living room and looks over the bodies splayed on the couch. Both McGee and DiNozzo are watching the doorway, waiting for him to come back in.

"Food?" Tony asks, voice rough and low.

"I think we'll eat later," Gibbs says. "Got more important things to worry about right now."

Tony grins in response and looks over at McGee who looks very much like he can't say anything at all at the moment. "Yeah," DiNozzo responds, leaning in a little closer to McGee. "Yeah, I think you're right."


	5. Chapter 5

AN: All the really smutty bits have to be edited out for , blah. Full fic will be posted at my lj – .com if anyone is interested in reading it. This chapter will be up there probably tonight or tomorrow.

Also, thanks to everyone for all the favs 

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Gibbs is fairly sure Tony is ready to get down and dirty right there on the couch, the way he's got himself plastered over McGee, but Gibbs has had more than his fair share of awkward couch rutting in his day (though he'll never admit it to anyone he knows now). Plus, McGee is looking a little squished in the corner of the couch, pressed tight between a pillow and Tony, and even if he won't say it, Gibbs knows he's got to be at least a little uncomfortable.

"Bed," he growls, and Tony looks almost disappointed for half a minute before he shrugs and stands, hauling McGee to his feet right along with him, like they're glued together.

Tony leads the way, kicks the bedroom door open in a display of what is probably supposed to be Tony manliness, but ends up being more of a display of misplaced leverage. He hops back a few steps as the door bounces open and McGee pulls himself out of Tony's grip to get out of the way, backing himself into Gibbs with a grimace. Gibbs doesn't move at all from where he's come up behind them, lets McGee lean back into him briefly.

"Nice one, Tony," McGee says, and Tony looks over his shoulder with a sheepish glance.

"Can it, Probie. It's naked time, not talking time," he responds, and Gibbs half smirks because Tony can be such a damn hypocrite sometimes; there's no way he's going to close his mouth once they get into the bedroom, clothes or no clothes.

And that thought scares the crap out of him – the no clothes part, not the Tony talking part -- as loath as Gibbs is to admit it. Because really, not only is he a grown man, but he's been married how many times? This should all be second nature to him, even if the gender part is a little backwards. He's never actually done it before, it being anything at all with another man, but he's seen it, watched some porn. Thought about it, even, and quite a lot. More than is probably healthy, but it's hard not to think about it when your senior field agent is Anthony DiNozzo, flirt of the century.

And yeah, maybe he's even thought about McGee a few times prior to the start of this. McGee's not flashy pretty-boy like Tony, but Gibbs has seen him mussed up now and then, and he can't say it's not a sight to make anyone a little hot under the collar. Hot in other places, too, if you're willing to let yourself go like that in public, which Gibbs very much is not.

But now, Gibbs is trying to keep a calm demeanor in the face of a case of butterfly nerves that haven't flared up like this since he can't even remember when. The brief press of McGee's too warm body back brings him down to earth just long enough to get through the bedroom door without turning back, but then they're in Tony's bedroom – all three of them – and it is very much not like the night they spent together last weekend.

That had been so much easier. Tony had been freaking out, and Gibbs had come to the rescue. It's almost instinct, the drive to make sure Tony's alright. But Tony is more than just alright now, and Gibbs is treading through territory that he's not comfortable treading.

It's not until he closes the door behind them that he figures out just what it is that's bugging him about all this. He's watching Tony through the dim moonlight reach for McGee's shirt, tug at the buttons, undo them with nimble ease that signals much practice before Tim grabs his wrist and pushes him back a little to undo his pants himself, take gentle control. And Tony obeys, steps out of McGee's space, waits for the next move that signals what he should or shouldn't do.

It hits him like a ton of very scary, slightly gut-wrenching bricks. The same feeling that bubbled up unbidden the previous weekend, but now full force and for good reason. What Tony and McGee have might not be overly serious, but Gibbs thinks that maybe it's more serious than either of them actually realizes, and that he really just doesn't fit in here. They have a routine, know each other, know what they're doing with each other, and the last thing they really need is someone else coming in and mucking things up.

McGee reaches out and shoves Tony towards the bed with shaking hands, and Tony's knees catch against the mattress, forcing him down. McGee half straddles his lap, pinning him in place before he slips the last few buttons of his shirt undone and lets it slide to the floor, tugs the white undershirt out from his loosened pants and pulls it over his head, tosses it to the side, too. He looks over at Gibbs, then, finally, breath starting to get heavy and locks eyes, his head tipping back a few inches to look out from beneath long lashes.

McGee doesn't move now that he's got Tony pinned and they're both half naked, like he's waiting for something. Tony's getting desperate and he rolls his hips up, but he doesn't fight with his full strength. He's relinquished control, relinquished authority to McGee, and that in itself is still something of a shock to Gibbs.

"Shit," Tony says. "Tim-"

Then Tony's gaze follows McGee's, and he can't hold back the little moan that fights past his lips seeing Gibbs watching. "Gibbs," Tony rasps.

"Fuck," his eyes slide closed and his head falls back to the mattress. "Boss. Gibbs. You, I-"

Gibbs figures this is probably where he should step in, because if that's not an invitation, he doesn't know what is – Tony calling out his name and McGee watching him like he's the one who's rutting against him. But there's still something holding him back, something keeping him from walking up there and itouching/i.

"Tim," he growls, and he can see the shiver that runs through McGee at his name. "Finish what you damn well started."

And then it comes as easy to him as working a case. He doesn't have to touch, not yet, at least, but he does have to direct. He has to call the shots. iHe/i has to be in control, because as good a job as McGee is doing, the authority is too much for him, inhibiting when he should be losing himself. There's a hierarchy to it all, there has to be for this to work, and McGee is relinquishing the position of top of the proverbial food chain to Gibbs. Alpha status, and McGee is giving it up because he just can't handle it. When Tony breaks, McGee breaks, and there needs to be someone there who's not broken, someone to take charge and put the pieces back together.

"Pants, McGee," Gibbs commands, and McGee hurries to obey the order, scrambling with barely controlled desire between himself and Tony to get the offending article out of the way.

He shoves pants and boxers down to Tony's knees and then down further once he clears the bed to twist around Tony's ankles, shoving his shirt up and out of the way, and Gibbs is ready to lose his own control. He reigns it in, though, the urge to ido/i and itouch finally touch /i that had been so elusive before. Schools his face, tries to look like he's the boss, because he iis/i. But it's hard when Tony is breathing like he just ran a marathon, eyes clenched shut, hands gripping the bed spread like a lifeline, half naked.

"Now yours," Gibbs gets out, and is amazed that his voice is steady and calm still, watches as McGee shoves his own pants down. "Finish, McGee."

McGee toes off his socks and steps out of the bottom half of a suit that should probably be hung up instead of left in a heap on the floor. Gibbs is finding it hard to care, though, watching McGee and DiNozzo wait for him, ready for whatever he has in store.

"Tony," he commands, a little softer, and Tony manages to open his eyes enough to acknowledge that he heard.

"Sit up and get on your knees," and just like that Tony does it, sits up, stomach flexing, and slides down off the bed in front of McGee who laces his hand through Tony's hair with practiced ease.

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Tony's phone rings in the middle of the night, shooting through the silent room like thunder. Not Tony's cell, but his land line – Gibbs hadn't even known he ihad/i a land line, and feels a little dumb for not noticing something as obvious as a phone laying around, but he's only ever heard Tony give out his cell number, anyways. It wakes him with a start, and he has to fight his body not to jump into action at the foreign noise and wake everyone else up, too. McGee just mumbles incoherently and buries his head deeper under a pillow, the sheet riding down low on his back and tangled in his legs. He's going to have a hell of a time getting up in the morning, sticky and tied down, and Gibbs smiles softly at the thought, a little groggy from being woken on such little sleep.

He realizes something is wrong when the phone finally stops ringing, though, and the sound of Tony's deep, raspy breathing isn't there. In fact, Tony is lying next to him, rigid in a way that shouts iawake/i andi alert/i and ifreaked the hell out/i, but it's his phone that rang and it doesn't make sense that it would startle Tony like it did Gibbs.

"Didn't want to get that?" he grumbles, and Tony swallows hard next to him.

"Probably a wrong number," Tony answers quietly, tersely.

"What if it wasn't?"

"Then it probably wasn't important," there's a finality in Tony's tone that Gibbs doesn't think Tony's ever taken with him.

McGee, yes. Ziva, frequently, and even occasionally Abby if Tony's been having a very, very bad day, but never Gibbs. It's a tone that says 'You know that joking, frat boy DiNozzo? Yeah, that's all an act,' and it sends a shiver down Gibbs' spine that would be not entirely unpleasant if it weren't for the fact that there is obviously a real reason that Tony is lying awake in bed, unwilling to answer the iphone/i.

Gibbs shifts so he's leaning on his elbow, head resting on his palm and facing Tony. He squints a little into the dark to study DiNozzo's face, try and read him, see if that unwillingness is stemming from nerves or apprehension or what. It takes just a moment for Gibbs to realize what he's seeing in Tony, the way his eyebrows are furrowed and he's biting every now and then at his lower lip, trying and failing to school his face. He's scared. And not like about to walk into a room with an armed murderer scared, but little kid, monster under the bed scared. Like he's afraid that if he picks up the phone something's going to reach out and grab him, and Gibbs can't help but wonder just what kind of a person can scare Anthony DiNozzo like ithat/i. Certainly not someone Gibbs wants to know.

"What's wrong, Tony," he asks – demands – voice low and strong, and Tony's eyes flick over for half a second, long enough for Gibbs to see that Tony still has to fight the urge to obey without pause.

"Nothing, Boss. Seriously. It's just a phone call," he answers, and Gibbs can practically hear the happy go lucky Tony mask snapping back into place, knows he won't get anything out of him without serious force.

Gibbs throws his free arm over Tony's stomach, right across his middle, and sighs, yanks Tony in close so he barely has to lean down to reach his ear. Tony relaxes into the embrace, even though Gibbs is sure Tony knows some sort of threat is about to come. That alone is almost enough to make Gibbs drop the subject until morning, but if he does that Tony will pretend nothing even happened, and they've danced around what's been bothering him long enough.

He tightens his grip briefly and rubs at Tony's side with his palm before he tilts his head down just enough to brush his forehead against Tony's hair, ghost his lips across Tony's cheek.

"You need to tell me who just called, DiNozzo," he commands in his best 'do this and don't ask questions or you'll end up in interrogation with no one behind the glass to save you' voice.

Tony flinches – into him, not away – but he doesn't break quite yet. "Or else?" he asks, and Gibbs chuckles.

"Or else I'll wake up McGee and ask ihim/i who just called," he threatens, and Tony grimaces.

"Boss," he half whines, and Gibbs brings his hand up to thwack Tony lightly upside the head. "Hey! Ow."

"DiNozzo."

"Sorry, Gibbs," Tony responds and turns to face Gibbs, scootches down a little and buries his face half into the mattress and half into Gibbs.

"I'm serious, Tony. You can't hide from whatever this is that's got you so strung out forever," but there's no more bite to his words and he hugs Tony in closer.

McGee's incoherent, sleep induced mumblings have come to an end, and Gibbs can see over Tony's head McGee's face peeking out from under the pillow. How much of the conversation he was awake enough to take Gibbs can't be certain, but it must have been enough, because his gaze is intent and a little bit angry. When he catches Gibbs stare he finally pulls the pillow off his head and sits up, twisting the sheets even more to lean against the head board, arms crossed across his bare chest.

"Tony," he says as his head drops back to rest against the wood and his eyes squeeze shut for a moment.

"Yeah, McGee?" Tony responds, voice muffled by Gibbs and the bed.

"I thought you said the calls stopped," McGee chides gently, and Gibbs can feel Tony practically shaking against him, feels a rumble in the strong body pressed almost beneath him that might have been some sort of growl.

Tony shoves himself back from Gibbs to roll over and face the ceiling, avoiding eye contact with both of his bedmates. It's not hard in the dark, and neither Gibbs nor McGee are trying very hard to force him. Gibbs thinks it's kind of telling that both he and McGee have learned the same strategies for dealing with an obtuse Tony. Tread lightly, and don't push anything but what you really need to know.

"They did stop," Tony answers.

"So why did they start back now?"

Tony smirks, but even in the dark Gibbs can tell it's not reaching his eyes. "Probably because I plugged the phone back in."

"Tony!" McGee hisses. "Gibbs is right! You can't just ignore this. For God's sake, Tony, iopen up/i. At least tell us something, because right now the only conclusion I can draw from you getting phone calls in the middle of the night that you're afraid to answer is that you have a crazy, axe wielding stalker who's checking to see if you're in."

"Tch," Tony rolls his eyes. "Don't be such a nerd, McSilentHill. And I'm not afraid to answer the phone."

"Yeah, you are, DiNozzo," Gibbs steps in; McGee is forcing too hard and Tony's about to clam back up.

McGee shifts down to press his face into Tony's neck and throw an arm over him at the same time Gibbs reaches out to run a hand through Tony's hair, and Gibbs can practically hear the war that's going on in Tony's head. He can either clam up and keep it all to himself, hope it'll go away even though he know it won't, or he can tell Gibbs and McGee, and maybe they'll be able to help or maybe they won't, but the weight off Tony's chest has to be at least a little tempting.

Tony sighs finally and sits up in bed, letting McGee fall back gently. He climbs over Gibbs, skin sliding over skin, and Gibbs almost reaches out, but that would be highly unproductive. Tony slides into his jeans and runs a hand through his sleep mussed hair, looking more like he belongs in a Calvin Klein ad than in a bedroom with a computer geek and a retired Marine, and iJesus/i, Gibbs thinks. But he doesn't let it show, just slips out from under the blanket, McGee on his tail and pulls on his own pants and a shirt, watching McGee search around for his before Tony takes pity and throws a pair of sweats his way.

Tony glances at the clock and Gibbs follows his gaze. It reads 3:03. "Shit," Tony mutters, mostly to himself, before raising his voice to a normal level. "Anyone else up for coffee?"

"This is probably the only time you'll ever hear me say this, but as long as it accompanies a whole lot of talking on your part, DiNozzo, yeah. I could use some coffee," Gibbs responds dryly.

McGee shrugs. " Works for me. Hey, never got around to dinner, did we? How about some Chinese to go along with that coffee and soul bearing?"

Tony smirks again, but this time it seems a little more genuine as he flips on the bedroom light and bathes them in a near blinding fluorescent glow. "Yeah, yeah. C'mon Gibbs, we have to feed the Probie before I can unburden my deepest fears upon you," he says, and it's joking, but Gibbs can hear the truth behind it – Tony isn't going to back out this time, if Gibbs has any say.

He settles in at the kitchen table while McGee and Tony bicker with each other in the kitchen, clanking dishes and microwaving things, starting the coffee pot. The smell of brewing caffeine is enough to perk him up a little, and he's glad, because he knows he's going want to be firing on all cylinders when he hears what has Tony so spooked. Finally, he thinks, they can maybe get somewhere with what has done the impossible and turned Tony iserious/i. It only took a couple of months and the formation of possible the weirdest relationship ever.


	6. Chapter 6

AN: Thanks for the reviews, guys!

If anyone is interested in the non-cut version of chapter 5, there's a link to my lj on my profile page. I know it's a pain in the butt, but I'm having trouble getting around 's linkage issues D:

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They eat in companionable silence, devouring take out that suffered only minorly from being left out half the night and drinking coffee that Tim took over making after Tony went for what Gibbs can only assume was the girliest crap he had in his cabinets. They pair together surprisingly well at three in the morning, and he's in a good enough mood with caffeine in front of him and after the previous evening's activities that Gibbs lets Tony finish before he starts prying.

He hates thinking about it like that, too, because prying is one thing that Gibbs is not fond of. A man's business is a man's business, unless murder is involved, of course, and he hates people trying to dig into his past too much to begrudge anyone their dirty secrets. But Tony is an exception, the exception that proves the rule, perhaps, and besides being Gibbs' Senior Field Agent, necessitating perfect mental harmony and sharp wit, Tony also means a hell of a lot more to him than that.

And ok, so maybe perfect mental harmony is a stretch for Tony on a good day, and sharp wit is a way of describing DiNozzo that would have Ziva rolling on the floor with laughter, but Gibbs has seen Tony in action. Seen him in /ireal/i action, not sniping at team mates on a fake stake out action, or flirting with the waitress to get half-leads action. He's seen Tony in full out agent mode, in finish the job or die trying mode. It's the reason Gibbs even gave Tony the time of day at the beginning of their working relationship, and though the others see that side of Tony only rarely, it's one that, even if Gibbs wasn't interested in Tony's well being for other reasons, he would be fighting to right Tony's ship for, so to speak.

But this has been a revealing few weeks for Gibbs, and it's hard to pretend even in his own head that his wishes for Tony's well being aren't mostly selfish. He wants Tony back, the old Tony, the one that he sees flickers of everyday, just enough to remind him that there is something really wrong. He wants Tony to be ihappy/i not because it's vital to the success of the team, but because it's vital to Tony's survival. He couldn't care less anymore about how what's happening to Tony is affecting his work, though he won't say it out loud and actually give DiNozzo something that close to permission to slack on the job.

And it's Tim, too. God, Tim. Up until now it's been McGee's job to keep Tony sane outside of work, to keep him together. Gibbs knows they've spending time together outside of work since before Tony was sent away, doesn't really know what that entailed, or even how much contact they had while Tony was on the Seahawk. All he knows, and he figures it might behoove him to ask them sometime, but now isn't the time for that, all he knows is that Tony came back, McGee came back up, and on the field it was work as usual. Except Tony was different, and Tim was different, and it's like they almost switched places even if Tony is still Senior Field Agent.

They'd learned to trust each other, rely on each other, long before then, before now, and that, at least, was something Gibbs noticed very quickly, very early on. Probably right after he came back from Mexico, but he pretty much hates thinking about that as much as he hates thinking about Tony gone. They trust each other in a way that Gibbs thinks is probably stronger than they've trusted any other team mate besides him, and he's not a team mate, he's the boss. Now, Tony needs to confide in that trust that he has in McGee, that trust that Gibbs had thought for so long would only belong like that to him.

"Tony," he says, finally, and Tony looks up from the sauce coated rice he's been pushing around his plate with a set of wooden chopsticks.

"Gibbs," he responds, and the jovial mood that he had seemed to be in when he was mucking around the kitchen with McGee disappears as quick as that, his eyes going back down to his rice.

Gibbs actually thinks he's going to have to push this and ask, again, for Tony to tell them what the hell is going on, thinks it might actually come down to begging. He's figuring he'll let McGee do that, and wondering just how he might convey that idea to Tim when Tony pushes his plate away with a scrape across the table. McGee is clutching his mug like a life line, his knuckles white, and Gibbs wonders just how long he's been trying to get Tony to do this, to talk.

"It started on the Seahawk," Tony says reluctantly, finally, ifinally/i. "But I guess you got that part already."

iYeah, we fucking got it/i Gibbs wants to shout. Wants to be able to just reach into Tony's head and pull out whatever this is, throw it out and not even have to look at it himself. But he can't do that, and yelling at Tony to talk faster isn't a good idea now that they have him talking at all. He's going to take his sweet time, draw it out probably to annoy Gibbs and Tim, but then Gibbs realizes what he's thinking and how stupid it is. If this is so serious that it's killing Tony from the inside out, then not even he's going to joke about it. He's going to get out as fast as he can, but it might take some serious time anyhow, serious prodding, serious encouragement.

So Gibbs doesn't say anything at all. Neither does McGee. Great minds, he thinks, and they wait and Tony talks.

"So yeah, Seahawk. I knew it was going to be bad, you know? Those Navy guys always hate the Agent Afloat anyhow, and seriously, I didn't join NCIS so I could spend my time on a freaking boat, right? And man, it was pretty unbearable at first. I just wanted to be home, wanted to be back at my desk throwing stuff at Probie and making fun of Ziva and hanging out in the lab with Abs," Gibbs grimaces as Tony talks because he knows.

He knows, because he missed having Tony sitting across from him, and McGee spouting his techno babble, even though he was just downstairs, commanding his own crew of Geek. Gibbs had even given in to temptation and gone down there, though he'll never tell Tim it was to see him, will pretend until his dying day that it was strictly business, strictly for a case. He had missed Ziva and her broken colloquialisms and fantastic fucking aim. Mainly, though, he had missed DiNozzo having his six.

"But then, it got easier. Eventually. Not the first week or anything, but there was nothing I could really do about it. I was stuck, and I figured the only way I'd get back was good behavior, and I was pretty much terrified that messing up would land me on a boat for the rest of my life. So I got over it, as much as I could. Sent Abby postcards, grinned and beared it.

And it was all going relatively OK, I guess, too. I mean, no big screw ups. No one dead. Pretty tight ship, overall. Glad I never joined the Navy, that's for sure. Military life might have suited you Boss, but damn. No thanks."

Tony is rambling. God, is he rambling, and Gibbs would really just love for him to get to the point, but Tony's voice is shaking almost imperceptibly, and he's trying. He'll get there when he gets there, even if it might be well into Sunday before it happens.

McGee has pushed his chair closer to Tony's, and Tony is leaning over, letting his back rest up more against McGee than his own chair. McGee won't do anything as brash as to put a comforting arm around Tony, but Gibbs can see where he's lightly stroking Tony's wrist beneath the table. Tony might not even notice it, but it's probably helping to calm his nerves, just the simple human contact.

"Then ihe/i showed up," Tony grinds out at last, and clarifies at the curious looks he's getting from both McGee and Gibbs. "My step brother."

"Your step brother's been calling you?" McGee butts in, astonished, and Tony shoots him a scathing glare.

"No, iProbie/i. My step brother is dead. My idad's/i been calling and fucking accusing me of killing him," he hisses, emphasizing 'dad' in a way Gibbs really doesn't like, eyes icy and narrowed.

McGee almost backs up, but he holds his ground, opens his mouth to say something. Whether it was a retort or some sort of ill thought out words of comfort, Gibbs doesn't really care to know. He clears his throat before McGee can throw a wrench into the whole operation, pretends he's not surprised as shit that Tony's family is involved in this, pretends he's not about to freak out that something of this magnitude happened and he hadn't even had the slightest clue until McGee came to him for help. "How about we let Tony finish?" he suggests, and Tim closes his mouth, looks sheepish.

"Yeah. Yeah. Sorry, Tony. I'm sorry," he says, laces his fingers with Tony and squeezes gently before letting go and sitting back.

"My step brother. Jesus. I-" and Tony is about to freak out, but he reigns himself in; Gibbs won't be surprised if this whole talking thing ends up with Tony breaking down completely, but it might be for the best.

If he can just get it out in the open, Gibbs and McGee can start to help. If he keeps it bundled up, they're going to be left with nothing but a shell of Tony. Gibbs would rather Tony would just swallow his pride and break down and fucking cry if it helped, even if that in itself would probably be a blow to Tony's ego that he doesn't need. Gibbs briefly considers coming up with some story about how it's ok for a grown man to cry, some bullshit story about a marine in the field that he knew, but pushes that aside. Tony probably wouldn't buy it even if the story were true.

Gibbs wants to reach out to Tony, too, but he waits. Right now McGee is doing a good job with being just touchy feely enough. He'll save the hugs and his elusive soft side for when the story is over and Tony needs it most.

"Jake was a really great guy," Tony tries again, closing his eyes and letting the words spill out. "We were pretty close when we were younger, grew apart eventually. My dad remarried a couple times and Jake's mom, my first step mom, moved cross country to Cali, so we lost touch. Then as soon as I finally get the hell out of dodge, when I turned eighteen, got a job, moved out, they get back together and she moves back here. But Jake stayed in San Francisco, and we saw each other a total of two times between then and when I was put on the Seahawk.

The first time was at the wedding – the second wedding, didn't actually happen for awhile after they got back together, ironically, few years – and we had a pretty good catch up time. Neither of us really wanted to be there, so we hung around the bar until they closed up shop, then we hit the clubs for a few hours, hit on some chicks, boozed some more. He left the next day, and we just never really got back in touch.

Not until he showed up on my doorstep a few years later. I was already on the force, still working the beat and that jazz, and he just shows up, in uniform, says he joined the Navy, that he's shipping out the next day, and could he crash on my couch and could I tell his mom because he didn't have the heart to deal with it."

Tony's hands are shaking as he reaches for his mug, brings it half way to his face before he grimaces and sets it back down hard. Gibbs is watching his plate, not staring Tony in the eye, trying not to make him feel cornered. He wants to tell him that he doesn't have to do this, now that Tony's started and Gibbs can see just how hard the memories are on him, but that won't get anything solved, and Gibbs is a solutions man to the core.

McGee is biting his lips and wringing his hands in his lap, staring at the collar of Tony's shirt. He opens his mouth to say something, but Gibbs doesn't even have to signal him to keep whatever it is to himself until Tony's done, because he thinks better of it almost immediately and shakes his head, closes his mouth with a click of teeth.

Tony takes a steadying breath. "I'm on the Seahawk for a month before he shows up, and it's like old times. Well, as close to old times as you can get on a ship with no booze. We hang out when we're both off duty, which is infrequently, and he hangs out with me when I'm on duty late at night. Two years younger than me, Sailor to the bone, but he's still Jake, and iGod/i it was just so nice to have him there again.

We talked about everything, too. Guy stuff, cars, talked a little computers – I can thank you for everything I could contribute there, McGeek. I swear this kid was a freaking whizz with anything techno related, wouldn't have stood a chance on my own – talked not so guy stuff. Told him about Jeanne. Probably more than I should have, but – yeah. Whatever. Not really important, I guess.

Then, one day he's gone. Off the ship. In the middle of the ocean, which meant there weren't a whole lot of possibilities. Found some of his gear floating a league or so back, and that was it. No body. No note to say it was a suicide, no evidence of a struggle. Just half his fucking uniform, and Jesus it was hell trying to clear my fucking name from that one."

"Shit, DiNozzo," Gibbs hisses, disgusted. "Why didn't I hear any of this? How come that wasn't in the fucking rundown when they returned my damn Senior Field Agent?"

Tony's laugh is bitter, his mouth twisted into a sneer. "Because it's iconfidential/i . Petty Officer First Class Rodriguez lost without a trace, top secret clearance, not something they wanted out, and I was never actually formally accused, anyway. No evidence, solid alibi. I was just the last one seen with him.

And if that wasn't bad enough, if losing my fucking – if losing my fucking ibrother/i wasn't enough, the old man starts calling as soon as I'm shore side again."

Gibbs catches the slip up. Whatever Petty Officer First Class Jake Rodriguez was to Tony, it wasn't just brotherly sympathy that Tony felt when he disappeared. He doesn't push it, doesn't think he ever will. What Tony did in his teens was his business. This now, this was Gibbs'.

"He starts calling, starts accusing me of shoving Jake overboard, of crazy shit, like shooting him and stashing the body until the search was over, and blah blah. I mean fuck, seriously? As if it wasn't enough, and he won't stop. But what the hell can I do? I just want to-- I want," Tony's head is in his hands, leaning heavy on the table as McGee rubs gingerly at his arm.

"I just want to forget, you know?" he sighs, and Gibbs spends a moment with his own eyes closed, because if he opens them he's sure the room's going to be looking a mighty shade of red.

He wants to kill Tony's dad. Wants to hunt him down and slit his fucking throat, except that would be too good a death for the man. And he wants to grab Tony and throttle him for not telling him sooner. For keeping something this fucking big from him, from McGee, for just holding it all in like a moron.

He settles for reaching out and grabbing the back of Tony's chair, hauling it over closer to his own with an ear splitting scrape across the floor and pulling Tony in close. Tony's head falls heavy against Gibbs' neck and he can feel the barest hint of wetness on his skin. McGee is looking a mixture of horrified and confused and conflicted. He wants to reach out to Tony, but Gibbs already has, and he doesn't know what to add.

Gibbs nods at the table. "Clear up, Tim. Think it's time to go back to bed," he grumbles and McGee looks actually relieved at the order.

Tony leans most of his weight on Gibbs when they stand after McGee is done, his breath ragged, and Gibbs knows he's trying to hold back the flood of emotion that Gibbs and McGee basically forced him to bear. Gibbs isn't even sure how to broach the subject, to let Tony know it's alright to let it go, but McGee steps in, repaying the out Gibbs had given him in the kitchen. He grasps Tony's shoulder and turns him gently, stepping into the space that Gibbs and Tony are taking up and wrapping his arms around Tony's lightly shaking form. Tony's pretty much had all he can take at this point, the floodgates have finally broken, and he sags into McGee, still silent but Gibbs can see the wet patch on McGee's white t-shirt when Gibbs works on maneuvering them towards the bed.

He figures Tony will probably cry himself to sleep now that he's started, but it's a step in the right direction. McGee lets go for half a minute to tug Tony's jeans off for him before pushing him back down onto the bed and shifting him to the center. Gibbs eyes the phone, considers star sixty nine-ing it for a second before shaking his head and tugging the cord from the jack instead. Right now, Tony needs peace, and so that's what Gibbs will give him.

But his mind has been spinning since Tony finished his story, and he has some pretty good theories as to why Tony's dad would be calling and accusing Tony, and as soon as Tony has had enough peace, or as soon as McGee can handle him on his own, Gibbs is going to be doing a little threatening of his own. If the best threat he can come up with happens to be physical intimidation, then he'll damn well show up on the elder DiNozzo's doorstep with his fucking .45 blazing and all the charm the Marines lovingly instilled in him to make his first impressions.


	7. Chapter 7

AN: And here's chapter seven, finally! There's a little bit more to this chap of the NC-17 nature up on my lj, which you can get to by going to my profile and clicking the homepage link, since ff. net has me absolutely confounded with links D:

And as a side note: I don't know if I've mentioned this yet in this story, but I adore feedback. Please let me know what you think I'm doing right or wrong, or just drop a note to say hi :) And thank you for the lovely reviews and favs I've gotten so far. You'll never catch me saying that I wont update unless I get x reviews or whatever, because I write because I love to write, but I also want to make others happy, too, so let me know!

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Two weeks in and the nightmare are only getting worse. Gibbs is at a loss as to what to do, but he tries not to let it show, especially not at work, in front of the rest of the team. Tony won't answer whether or not the phone calls have stopped, is actually avoiding answering most questions like that at all, and Gibbs counts it as a miracle that they got him to open up just that one night. Gibbs had known it was going to be bad, that Tony wouldn't exactly be the epitome of ideal psych patient, ready to open up and spill his every thought and feeling to McGee and Gibbs from that moment on, but he had thought it would be just a little bit easier, that it would be a step in the right direction.

That would have been too logical, of course, too easy. Everything with Tony is always one step forward, two back, so why should this be any different? The frustration must be showing through a little bit, though, no matter how much he tries to hide it, because McGee actually corners him one day on his way back from the restroom, crowds Gibbs into the elevator and hits the first floor. Gibbs follows him half way across the Navy Yard before Tim gets up to courage to open his mouth and say what's on his mind.

He's actually been expecting something like this all morning, although a stroll outside wasn't exactly what he had thought would happen. He figured maybe an email, in true nerd fashion, or maybe McGee would wrangle him into lunch. Tony's out of the office for a couple days, having been delegated to travel and stakeout a suspect with Ziva, and they haven't heard anything from either of them yet. Since it's worrying Gibbs, he knows it must be worrying McGee, but he gets the feeling that's not what this whole stroll in the park – or parking lot, as the case really is – is about.

"You're having second thoughts, aren't you?" McGee asks finally as they're passing the same black Hummer for the third time, and Gibbs stops dead in his tracks.

"No," Gibbs answers after a shocked moment processing just what the hell Tim might be talking about. "No, McGee. I'm not."

McGee shakes his head hard before he looks around to make sure no one's watching, eyes narrowed and face set in a half grimace. "Yeah, Boss. You are."

Gibbs moves to reply, but Tim doesn't let him. "Tony's hard to deal with. I know he's hard to deal with. Jesus, do I ever know it. And I know it can't be easy doing… doing ithis/i, whatever this is, with him, and with me. Especially not with me. I mean, I'm the Probie, right? I'm younger than all of you guys, way less experience, less field time. I know it still frustrates you how green I act sometimes, do stupid stuff-"

"Stupid? McGee, you're-"

McGee's glare hardens as he cuts Gibbs off. "Let me finish. Seriously. Boss. Please," the please is obviously an after thought, but Gibbs shuts up all the same and lets him talk it out. "I know I still do stupid stuff, and the stuff that I do get right is all techno junk that you'd rather have figured out the hard way. And I know that it can't be easy to start something with that, and to start something with Tony, who is about as fucked in the head as anyone I know, even if he doesn't show it at work."

McGee is still looking around every few minutes, but no one is really there – it's a holiday weekend, and if they weren't working a case they'd be home themselves – and he's gotten close enough that Gibbs is actually pushed up uncomfortably against the same Hummer they've been passing, trying to maintain an appropriate distance for the work place, even though a little part of his mind is telling him to get a little closer and find some way to shut McGee up. It's a part of his brain that hasn't really yelled at him in a very long time – he can't even remember how many years – and he blames that mostly on his ex-wives, but he figures today isn't the day he really wants to lose his job, so he stays back and let's McGee say his piece before Gibbs says his own.

"But this, Boss. This – I," McGee's winding down, is losing momentum and train of thought, his argument falling off kilter, and Gibbs is thankful.

"Tony needs you," McGee finishes meekly. "And I can't do this alone."

"Yeah?" Gibbs says, and tries to hide the smile that's threatening to ruin the very somber, emotional mood McGee has filled the space between them with.

"Yeah," McGee whispers back.

"And that's the only reason you want me to stay?"

McGee's mouth opens and shuts, but no words come out. He's floored by the question, and as much as Gibbs wants to pretend that it was asked in jest, he honestly wants to know.

McGee finally finds his voice again, and it's a little ironic that it took so long after such a long speech on his part. "No," he says finally, softly, and his eyes stray towards the gravel for a brief second before meeting Gibbs' own.

"No," he says again, voice stronger, huskier. "No, of course it's not. Damn it, Boss. That wasn't what I meant. You know it wasn't. This isn't – Listen. I want this. All of this. With Tony iand/i with you. But I don't want -- I didn't know if you --"

He's struggling to find the right words, but Gibbs has a pretty good idea what he's thinking. He has a pretty good idea because he's been thinking it himself the past couple weeks, was almost sure of it just a few minutes ago, and it scared the shit out of him to think about it, that intentions might be getting jumbled and really, who was in this for who ?

"You don't want this to be a thing between you and Tony, and between me and Tony. Maybe a little bit afraid that I don't want you, too?" Gibbs asks, and there's an uncomfortable clenching in the pit of his stomach as McGee looks at him with an expression that says Gibbs took the words he couldn't say right out of his mouth.

"Yeah," McGee breathes out. "I know that you and Tony have been a team longer than all of us, and that he's, that – I know that I'm nothing like him. I mean why would you want – just, why?"

Gibbs shrugs. He could go into a long tirade about team and family, and about how McGee is just as important to him as Tony, and that he doesn't want to watch McGee break down any more than he wants to see it happen to Tony. He could tell McGee that maybe it confused him a little bit at first, too, but that Gibbs sure as hell cares about the both of them more than he has about anyone in a long damn time, and it shouldn't really matter why.

He's given it many an hour's thought himself, and it really all comes down to this all just works so naturally that it's silly to think he wouldn't want Tim just as much as he wants Tony. He could even tell him that Gibbs was having the same worrysome thoughts, but all that would be a few too many words for comfort, especially in the middle of the Navy Yard.

He settles for cuffing Tim lightly on the back of his head and shrugging. "I just do, McGee," he says, and realizes how ironic it is that McGee is the one admitting to being afraid of becoming the third wheel in a relationship he was one of the founding members of.

McGee doesn't look entirely convinced, and Gibbs sighs. "Come over tonight after work. I'll grab dinner on my way. Got some stuff to talk to you about – about Tony," Gibbs pushes softly.

"Boss, I wasn't –"

"Yeah, I know you weren't fishing for an invite, McGee. Bring something to wear tomorrow so no one gets suspicious," he says, and pushes McGee back a little so Gibbs can squeeze by; it may be a holiday, but it's only 10 in the morning, and someone is bound to miss them.

Maybe tonight he can convince McGee that he's not playing odd man out, and he also really does want to talk about Tony. More specifically, Tony's dad and this long lost step brother that disappears just as Tony is getting reacquainted and comfortable with him. He's been doing some research – some hard, paper trail research, none of this googling and database hacking that McGee does, but he's hitting his own dead ends, and it's time to let Tim work his magic.

The building is quiet enough on a day that everyone else has off, doubly so with Tony and Ziva gone. Gibbs will never let them know it, but their bickering and pranks, as annoying as they can get, are at least decent white noise if he can get in the proper mood and zone them out just right. And after a hard case, the way his whole team moves together, leans on one another, picks each other up with joking and prodding is something that he's come to depend on himself.

Gibbs finds himself keeping a keen ear open for the buzz of his cell phone in his pocket, waiting for a call from Tony (or he supposes he'd even settle for Ziva) that he knows won't come. It's too dangerous to check in, would probably ruin their whole op, but McGee is checking his email with an unprecedented frequency, even for him, and Gibbs knows he's doing the same illogical thing. When either of them came to start needing constant verification that Tony is still there Gibbs doesn't know, but it's a little unsettling that the two of them – him and McGee – are essentially waiting around the office on their day off for contact that shouldn't come.

The problem lays, of course, therein. Because if they ido/i get that call, or that email, then something is definitely wrong. Versus just something maybe being wrong, which is why Gibbs has always tried to be on the other end of this situation, not being big on patience, as well as he employs the tactic in certain situations. But to be expected to sit and wait while half his team is hundreds of miles away is just cruel, even if it's necessary.

He's been delegated to helping out McGee, which is a little irritating in itself – not the McGee part, just the delegation part – by Vance after the last escapade he personally led ended up with some very unhappy local law enforcement, otherwise he would be the one out there with his senior field agent. McGee has everything under wraps on his end, though, naturally, because he's McGee and probably had his part done before Tony and Ziva even left, which leaves the both of them to sit around and stare at blank screens for two days.

Gibbs shuffles some papers around on his desk and pulls out a manila folder that he has very purposely not labeled. It had actually taken the calling in of quite a few favors to get the information in said file, and he can honestly say he wasn't exactly pleased to have to call them in from the FBI of all places. He shoves it to the side where he can't miss it when he leaves for the night and pulls out his cell phone to check for missed calls. There are none, of course, but he does catch the time and mutters a curse under his breath.

"McGee," Gibbs barks, and McGee jumps in his seat, eyes pulling away from the computer screen, wide with panic while his heartbeat slows from the shock.

Gibbs figures it would be inappropriate to laugh, so he settles for a half smile instead. "C'mon, Tim. Pack up for the night. You can do whatever it is on your laptop later."

He knows that McGee has a very nice desktop at home on which he does all of his nerdery – programming and whatever other geeky and possibly illegal things he knows how to do – and Gibbs assumes that McGee will get the hint that he's still supposed to report to Gibbs' house later that night. McGee swallows before he nods, slowly.

"Sure thing, Boss. Let me just shut down and I'll head out."

Gibbs doesn't bother to wait for him. He wants to get home and get showered before McGee shows up, and he's still got to pick up food on the way. He's thinking tonight is a pizza sort of night, as boring and redundant as that is, but since there's really no one around at 7:30 on a holiday, he figures he'll ask Tim, throw him off his game a little just for fun.

"Pepperoni alright with you?" he asks casually as he stands up, and Tim's eyes are almost as wide as when Gibbs startled him a moment ago as he tries to process just what was asked of him.

"Uh," he stutters before regaining composure and trying to brush off that he was flustered at all. "Sounds great, Boss. Whatever you want."

Gibbs hums his response, smirking a little, and taps McGee's desk as he passes. "See you, Tim," he says, and McGee just nods good-bye; Gibbs figures McGee is probably watching him all the way to the elevator as he shuts down, but Gibbs doesn't look back until he's pressed the down button, and even then it's just to let his eyes wander casually around the empty office. He sees McGee packing up his stuff as the elevator dings and he steps on, and then the doors close and he's left to his own devices.

It'll be nice to spend a night alone with McGee, he figures, and it'll probably help to get his mind off of Tony once he says his piece and gives McGee what he's got. It's probably stuff that McGee could have found on his own, but it's the pared down, bare essentials version. Gibbs had to sort through a lot of dirty paper work to find what is in the folder that's under his arm – years and years of suspected tax fraud, near misses, government watch notices. It's a wonder that Tony ever managed a security clearance with the black marks on his father's files.

And on the opposite end of the spectrum is Tony's step brother. A supposedly expunged DUI when Jake Rodriguez was a minor is the worst Gibbs can find on the guy. Otherwise, exemplary sailor who served his time well with the Navy, stayed out of his step father's bad business and away from the influences of his mother. Quick promotions and a couple of medals, served his time in Iraq, working recon for something that Gibbs deemed having nothing to do with his death. His assignment with Tony seems totally arbitrary, but Gibbs isn't one for coincidences, and he figures he'll task McGee with trying to figure that part out.

By the time 8:30 rolls around he's stepping out of the shower and toweling off his hair, another towel around his waist. Gibbs can hear movement downstairs and assumes that McGee either knocked and came in after a lack of answer, or just knows Gibbs well enough by now to not bother knocking at all. He just started the week's laundry last night, so most of his clean clothes are stuck in the dryer, and he wanders downstairs to grab something comfortable and catches McGee leaning awkwardly against his kitchen table with nothing to do on his way past.

McGee glances up to catch Gibbs in the doorway, and Gibbs is pleased that he's not acting nervous about Gibbs walking around half naked at least. He notices the casual way McGee's gaze drifts up before it catches Gibbs own, but doesn't mention it, just waves with the hand not holding the towel up to the second cabinet from the fridge. "Plates are up there, pizza's on the counter, drinks in the fridge. You can nuke yours if you want," he nods towards the microwave. "If you wanna bring stuff into the living room, my movie collection's not quite as… varied as DiNozzo's, but there's probably something on TV."

McGee moves to follow Gibbs' suggestion almost before it's out of the older man's mouth, and Gibbs chuckles to himself on the way down to find clothes.

"You want beer?" McGee calls from the kitchen, and Gibbs can hear the fridge opening.

"That works," he calls back, tugging on a pair of jeans and a button down that's still wrinkled from the dryer, only buttons it half way, because really, what's the point?

He comes back up to find McGee sprawled out on the couch, two plates on the table in front of him along with a beer and a coke, and McGee pulls his knees up so his feet are planted on the couch and there's enough room for Gibbs. Gibbs grabs a plate and the remote and sits down, flips on the TV and finds a suitable bad sitcom with an ill timed laugh track, turns the volume down almost as low as it will go.

"Hard day at the office, honey?" Gibbs jokes, and McGee snorts into the soda he's sat up to drink.

Gibbs takes it from him before McGee can choke proper and drop coke all over Gibbs' couch. He sets it back down and watches as McGee fails to hide the goofy smile that crosses his face. At least the tension is broken, he figures, and pulls over the folder that is sitting on the edge of the table. He hands it to Tim before he takes a bite of his pizza, and McGee opens it up to flip through the papers that are an inch thick.

He's a fast reader, so by the time Gibbs is done with his second slice he can see the disgust in McGee's face, and Gibbs guesses it's not from reading the info on Rodriguez. "Jesus," McGee murmurs just barely loud enough for Gibbs to catch. "Tony had to grow up with this shit?"

Gibbs shrugs. "Suppose so. Your turn now, Tim. Find out why Tony's dad would want Jake dead, and why he'd want to pin it on Tony."

Tim nods and Gibbs knows that's all the conversation they need to have about this tonight. There's nothing either of them can really do right now, and even if Gibbs let McGee pull out his laptop and start rooting his way through files neither of them should be able to see, there's a good chance McGee could do it a whole lot faster either from his own place without Gibbs breathing down his neck, or from work. He also knows that McGee's mind is going to be a jumble of plans to actually get that information for the rest of the night unless Gibbs can take his mind off it, but he lets McGee finish eating before they change the subject at all.

Around half past ten Gibbs figures it's probably safe to give Tony a call, figures it'll be a good way to get McGee's mind off of computers, if not off of Tony's dad, and he nudges Tim's foot to get his attention .

"Phone," Gibbs says, and nods at the cordless that's on the end table by McGee's head.

McGee hands it to him and waits for Gibbs to dial, probably already having figured out who Gibbs intends to call. He hits the button for speaker phone as McGee hits mute on the remote and ringing echoes through the room until there's a click and Tony's voice comes on the line.

"DiNozzo," it's curt and distracted, and Gibbs wonders if it's because Ziva is in the background keeping Tony busy with something stupid, or if it's because Ziva's gone to bed and Tony doesn't really want to do the same, tired as he may be.

"Status report, Tony," Gibbs says, and McGee grins as Tony laughs a little at the command.

"No problems here, Boss. Trailed our mark and got some visual confirmation of a meeting between him and some very bad dudes. Going back tomorrow to see what else we can dig up."

"And David?" Gibbs asks.

"Two hotel rooms this time. Agency's really stepping itself up, I must say. Ziva hit the hay about half an hour ago. Early morning, after all," Tony answers casually, but Gibbs can hear the strain in his voice; he's tired, but nobody likes hotel rooms in strange towns, especially not if you're used to a bed partner – sometimes two.

"You alright, Tony?" Gibbs says, and Tony's laugh is bitter.

"'Course, Boss man. Right as rain."

"I'm serious, DiNozzo," Gibbs growls, not liking the fake chipper attitude.

"So'm I, Gibbs. Honest. I mean, I'd rather be at home with you and Tim, right? But it's just a couple days. I'm a big boy. I'll survive," Tony promises, and at least it sounds a little more sincere.

Next to Gibbs Tim sighs. Tony catches it over the phone and chuckles. "That you, McGee? Isn't it past time for all good little Probies to be in bed?"

"Yeah, I miss you, too, Tony," McGee shoots back. "You'll call if you need us, right?"

"I already told you I'm fine, McMom."

"iTony/i."

"Tim. I'm fine. I promise. But yes, if I wake up in the middle of the night freaking out because of the monsters under the bed, or the skeletons in my closet then I will give you a call," Tony says after a moment's pause.

"Seriously, Tony," Gibbs pushes. "I don't care if it's two A.M. and you just want to talk. Call."

"I will, Boss. I promise. We can even turn on the TV and watch bad softcore Showtime porn together. It'll be like a slumber party," he jokes, but Gibbs is just happy with the promise and hopes it's as sincere as he thinks it is, hidden behind jest though it is.

"You're in a different time zone, Tony," McGee points out, and the disappointment in Tony's voice is almost audible when he responds.

"Oh. Damn."

"Well," Tony suggests. "How about I just watch it and tell you what's happening? I'm a fantastic commentator."

Gibbs can't help it and actually laughs at Tony's enthusiasm, letting his head fall back against the couch and thankful it's only Tim and Tony there to witness. "Sounds like a plan, DiNozzo," he says. "Now go to sleep."

Six hundred miles away Tony is grinning like the cat that ate the canary, Gibbs is sure. "Yeah, yeah. Sounds like a good idea. I'll check in for real tomorrow when Ziva's awake with real work news. You two kids better get some shut eye, too," Tony says suggestively.

McGee chuckles. "'Night, Tony. You know we miss you, right?"

"I know I'm your Senior Field Agent, Probie, but I've been gone for a lot longer than two days before."

"Yeah," McGee says, and Gibbs catches the wince and the change in his tone, as subtle as it is. "I know."

"Whatever. Miss you, too, McGirly, Boss. This gossip fest has pretty much put me to sleep. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

When Gibbs finally hangs up the phone he sets it down by McGee's half eaten pizza and stands up, offering a hand to McGee in the process. "C'mon, Tim. Tony's got the right idea, and he'll call if he needs to, so stop worrying."

McGee takes the hand, hauls himself to his feet. "I know. I know. Really. It's just," he starts, but Gibbs cuts him off.

He's got McGee by the wrist and he pulls him into a firm kiss. It's been half a week since Gibbs has gotten to touch either of his boys, and he's not really in the mood to waste the opportunity thinking when it could be much better spent doing. It hurts a little to know that Tony is alone in a hotel room in another state, but Gibbs has a phone next to his bed, and he'll make sure his cell is on full volume before they go to sleep.

He pushes McGee towards the stairs and McGee goes with a half muffled protest at being cut off, but he tugs his shirt off and over his head all the same as they make their way up the stairs. He's working on his pants by the time they're at the bedroom, and Gibbs watches McGee finish stripping as he pulls the cell from his pocket and sets it on the nightstand. He sets to work removing his own shirt and jeans, which takes far less time than McGee's own clothing, seeing as McGee had never actually changed after work. Gibbs did at least notice a duffle bag by the door and assumes there's probably an ironed shirt hanging up in McGee's car so he can look halfway presentable in the morning.

Gibbs shoves McGee back and onto the bed, lets him move up so he's resting against the pillows, Gibbs between his thighs, biting at his neck, moving his lips to McGee's to push his tongue past and he can feel the vibrations of McGee's moan in his mouth as he reaches between them to stroke down Tim's side. Gibbs settles in next to him, keeps kissing, petting, pushing, stroking. If Tony were here they'd probably do more, draw this out longer, but he's not and it doesn't feel quite right to go too far tonight, not after the phone call, and not when they're both expecting another one in a few hours, right about the time Tony usually wakes himself up.

------

Gibbs is thinking that they're going to end up falling asleep sticky and uncovered, and that waking up is going to be a highly unpleasant affair when McGee finally moves off the bed to head into the bathroom. He comes back out a few minutes later with a warm, wet towel and tosses it at Gibbs who catches it gratefully. When Tim lies back down they're both relatively clean and Gibbs has shoved the blanket down so they can pull it back up easier. McGee reaches out to set his own phone on the nightstand, sets the alarm and makes sure the volume is up before flopping back against Gibbs to fall asleep in record time.

Gibbs fully expects to wake up to Shakira blaring from his phone at two in the morning, but instead he wakes to his alarm clock buzzing 7 A.M. talk radio and a text sent half an hour ago from Tony. _Slept fine. Tell the Probie he's going to give himself an aneurysm if he keeps up the worrying. Talk later Xoxo Tony_


End file.
